Close Encounters 10
by chezchuckles
Summary: The Living Daylights. Spy Castle and Beckett make the long trek out of Russia towards home.
1. Chapter 1

**Close Encounters 10: Living Daylights**

* * *

Richard Castle couldn't sleep. He should; he knew he should. But the echoes of her breathing and the slow trickle of water over stone were the opposite of lulling. Not soothing, not comforting, but a reminder of all they stood to lose.

It was only mid-afternoon and he planned to start their long journey home the instant it fell dark. She'd nursed a nutrition shake all morning as she had sat in the pale light coming into the mouth of the cave. Castle had done quick recons, searching for hiding places and possible cut-throughs, ways to get around the Russian encampment.

He wanted to avoid bloodshed if he could, keep from alerting the Russians that there were armed agents let loose on the steppe. But he was afraid it would be unavoidable. And the moment Castle killed a scout party was the moment they were truly on the run.

As it was, it was going to be hard enough to get to where he'd stashed the farm truck. Kate was just not in condition for this, and Castle himself had maybe three days worth of rations before it affected him as well. If they could go from water source to water source, he'd be okay. He'd make it. But he didn't think Beckett could travel that far each day.

So first on his mind - the Russians. Second - the food situation. And third - the miles they could conceivably cover.

Finally - and it seemed the worst of all - there was just no cover. The Russian steppe was filled with grassland from here to that farm truck he'd had to dump, and line of sight was clear to the horizon.

No cover.

They'd be spotted miles and miles away and there was nowhere to hide. It looked impossible.

And so he couldn't sleep.

* * *

When Beckett woke, it was with a violence and panic that she'd not felt in days.

"Just me, just me," he whispered.

Her madly beating heart shook her whole body, but she realized it'd been a dream. A wolf and a blackening fire. A gun. Radiation. A jumbled mess of fears. But if she was dreaming again, she was on her way back to healthy, right? If her mind could draw up her fears, then it wasn't so concerned with keeping her body from shutting down.

She was going to take it as a good sign.

"You sleep?" she murmured back to him, the darkness in the cave making it easier to hide from each other. "Castle."

"Some."

Not that he couldn't function on little sleep - he could, and so could she; they were professionals - but it was good to know. What his limits might be, where she might have to think ahead.

"You?" he breathed out.

"I don't know, Castle. You were watching me sleep. What do you think?"

He chuckled in the pitch black stillness of the hideout, and then she felt his lips glancing off the corner of her mouth, the warm breath as it skated across her cheek. She raised her hand to meet him, curled her fingers at his neck to feel the slow thump of his pulse.

"Rick," she murmured.

He stayed right where he was, paused for her. She found her courage, what strength she could muster, and she palmed his neck, brushed her nose against his.

"I love you," she said, letting him know. Just in case.

"Kate," he rasped out, and then he wrapped his arms around her tightly, drew her up out of the sleeping bag and into his lap. "I won't say it. I won't. This isn't the end."

She couldn't find an answer to that.

* * *

If she'd wanted to rip him open and pull out his guts before they even _started_ this ordeal, then she'd been a rousing success.

Saying _good-bye_ in the darkness like a ghost. So not cool, Beckett.

He ignored her as she crawled in the darkness behind him, ignored the way her breath came rough and quick, ignored the fumbling as she steadied herself on the rock. Ignored it. He wouldn't let the possibility for failure enter his mind. She could do this. He could do this _for her_.

Rick Castle hadn't come back to Russia only to lose her now.

He reached back and grabbed her by the collar of her coat, dragged her up out of the tunnel with him into the broader cavern. She got to her feet clumsily, but she stayed. She was there.

He dropped his hand and stepped away from her, but she was steady. "Let me check before we head out," he murmured.

"Can you see?"

"I've got the goggles," he said and pushed down them down over his eyes. "Stay right there."

She did, and Castle pushed towards the entrance, picking up his feet. He got down in a crouch and belly crawled out into the night, scanning the horizon with the goggles. The flare of green showed him the Russian camp, and he took a deep breath out to calm himself.

Steady. Every step of the way had to be certain. Castle took in the landscape, mentally plotted out every point of their trek back towards the farm truck he'd liberated. He'd hidden it well, but he wasn't going to hinge their escape from Russia on it being there. If it wasn't, he needed a back-up plan.

He wasn't sure yet what that would be, but he had time to think.

After a few minutes, he felt Kate come settle at his hip, her forehead against the curve of his rib. He took a breath and felt her close, felt her grip on his jacket. She didn't say anything so he didn't either, just continued to map the horizon. He knew from watching the camp that there were five guards, four posted and one wandering, and it took only moments to track the first three. The guard posted at the north was on the other side of the camp, and they should never run into him.

She squeezed his hip and he pushed the goggles up, turned his head back to her.

The darkness of the cavern was complete, but he thought for a moment there was a flash of her teeth in a smile, probably trying to reassure him.

"You ready?" he said.

"Yes."

And he told himself to believe her.

* * *

It really wasn't that bad. Her chest was tight with a creeping fatigue and she knew she was depending on Castle to be her eyes and ears, but it was pitch black out here anyway. Wasn't like having five more days worth of nutrition shakes was going to help that situation.

She'd had her fingers tucked into his waistband at first, but it hadn't been ideal. Now she trailed only a foot behind him, listening for his quiet commands as he warned her about the rough terrain. It'd only be another few miles as they went over the ridgeline, and then they'd be well into the grassland.

It was cold and her breath was noisy, but she ignored that. Nothing she could do about it and she couldn't waste her energy trying to modulate her breathing. She needed to breathe, had to breathe, and she'd take whatever she could get.

The ground was rough and she kept stumbling. Wasn't like her, but she knew the clumsiness was due to her condition, knew her muscles wouldn't coordinate as fast she was used to, if at all. She concentrated on following Castle as precisely as she could and picking up her feet.

She trusted Castle to know when they were in danger.

"Becks, how goes it?"

"Good," she rasped back, heard her own voice shaky and weak. She winced and cleared her throat. "I'm good."

"Okay. Can we pick it up?"

Pick it up? They weren't already going the pace he thought they ought to? "Yes," she gritted out. "Yes. You lead, Castle; I'll follow."

"When you can't, you tell me."

"Yes," she said.

"Beckett."

"Yes. I'll tell you."

"Because I will carry you. I can carry you tonight, probably even tomorrow. But after that... And you may not be able to handle it later either. So-"

"I got it, Rick."

He didn't say anything more and she chose to accept that he believed her.

She'd push it as far and as long as she could, but she knew she couldn't afford to be stupid. She'd tell him.

* * *

Shit.

Russians.

"Drop, Kate," he hissed, reaching back and dragging her down with him.

Castle felt her land on top of him, his back crunching hard against the rock, his elbows jarred where they met the ground. She was breathing hard over him, and he cradled the back of her head as he turned them, laying over her now, bracing himself on his raw elbows.

He had to stop paying more attention to her than to their surroundings. His fault they'd gotten so close.

He felt her hand slide down his back, shove against the pack tight at his spine, and then her fingers tucked into his pants and drew his weapon.

He froze.

She brought the gun between them and her eyes were glittering in the darkness. Wordless, she handed it over to him, and he took it slowly, wrapping his fingers around the grip.

And then he saw she had the knife.

That scared the shit out of him. These guys were _not_ getting close enough for Beckett to use that damn knife. Her fucking hand was shaking. No way. No.

He gnashed his teeth and pressed his knee down into her wrist, kept her there; he felt her curl under him, a brief struggle, and then she released her fingers and dropped the knife.

When he was sure, he let his knee up and kept his eyes on the three men making their slow way across the rocks. He couldn't tell from this distance if they were Army, but their lack of formation and the general looseness to their walk made him think not.

Beneath him, Kate let out a long breath and sucked in another one, so he lowered his head to hers, cheeks brushing so that his mouth was at her ear.

"Natives, sweetheart. We'll just hunker down here and keep out of their way."

She let out a quick breath and then her fingers were wrapping at the back of his knee in a grip so tight, so fierce, that he'd never forget.

Never.

How the relief poured out of her.

* * *

It was harder to get up off the ground than she expected, but he hauled her to her feet and held her for just a second, letting her get her bearings. The knife was back in its sheath at her thigh; she wouldn't let him take it away. She let Castle go ahead of her a few steps and she settled back into the rhythm of walking through the darkness.

She was going to have to filch one of his guns when she had a chance. He couldn't be left unprotected; she wouldn't be his weak side. Not in this. No matter her capabilities right now, she would hold a gun and at least cover his back.

At least.

The gun. He was right about the knife; it was useless against the Army and if their enemies got past Castle with his gun, then what the fuck did it matter if she had a knife? She couldn't let go of it though, because for so long it had been the only thing between her and death. The thought of not having the knife at her thigh made her panic.

She stumbled hard, couldn't catch her balance, and mentally cursed herself for not paying attention as her knee cracked against the rock.

"Kate," he breathed out, hissing in the darkness. He'd reached back to grab her but he'd missed.

"Okay, I'm okay," she said back softly, keeping her voice down. And keeping the pain out of it.

He gripped her elbow and helped her stand, and she flexed her knee a few times to make sure. Just ached. Not broken, not even that badly bruised. She hoped. Different knee from last time too, so there was that.

"Go," she murmured.

He left his hand at her waist for the first few steps, and then he started hustling her again, his steps quick, and she gave up pretending and gripped his wrist hard to keep up.

* * *

The grip of her hand around his forearm made him feel better and he didn't know why. It was a grip close to panic, but it gave him a strange strength, feeling her right at his side, feeling the tightness of her fingers around him like she could never be ripped away.

When even that started to fade, he shook her off and instead tangled their fingers together, sweaty palms meeting close. This way she stumbled more at his heels, kept clipping them with her quick steps, but it was better to know for sure she was following.

After a good long time, when his mind had started moving on to the next stop, the next cluster of caves that were just beyond the horizon - if they could make it - he realized that Kate was stumbling a lot.

A lot.

This time when she fell, he felt her balance shift the second before it happened and he flipped around and caught her, rocking backwards with the force of her momentum.

"Kate."

"I can't _see_ anything. How can you go so fast and not see anything?" she growled, the frustration so deep in her voice that it sounded like tears.

He ignored that and helped her upright. "I don't know. It's not - I can't see anything really either." He didn't want to say what it was. His feet were sure-footed and hers were not.

"I'm wasting all my strength straining to see," she said quietly. But she was already on the move again, pushing him forward as well, their pace much slower, but Kate the one driving them ahead.

"Tell me what to do to help," he said quietly.

"I don't know," she said bitterly. "Never mind. Just - hey. The goggles?"

He cursed himself for not thinking of it before and ripped them from around his neck and off his head. He could barely even see _her_ in the darkness, and it wasn't going to let up any time soon. He should've tried this.

Castle paused and fumbled at her neck, helped her adjust the goggles. "They make me feel trapped," he said softly. "So I don't use them much anyway. How's the fit?"

"Little loose," she breathed out.

He tightened the straps and gave a soft chuckle. "Sexy, Beckett."

"Shut up."

"I'm serious. Never seen a woman work the night vision goggles quite like you."

She slapped his shoulder but the lack of force behind it only sobered him. She was pretty weak; it'd been a long night.

"Hey, you want to take a break? Maybe have a nutrition shake-"

"No," she said intently. "We don't have time. You said five miles."

"Yeah," he breathed out.

"We've gone maybe two. And we don't have much darkness left." _And I'm only getting slower._

He winced. "Come on then. The goggles good?"

"Good."

"See any better?"

She sighed. "Some."

Yeah, that was what he thought.

* * *

She hadn't realized just how exhausted the mere act of _seeing_ could make a person. But now that the night vision goggles had turned the formerly black landscape into flares of green, she didn't have to strain quite so hard to concentrate.

She still missed the occasional outcropping or misshapen rock, but she saw the divots and dips in the ground before they could upset her balance. She wasn't going that much faster though; the goggles made her neck ache and her eyes throb, and she wondered if it was just the heaviness of the contraption or something else.

Dehydration? Could she be dehydrated already?

"Castle," she scraped out.

He stopped immediately, and she felt one of his hands come to her waist, holding her there even as his other hand rooted around in the pack. "Water?"

"Yes," she answered, swaying a little. Her thigh muscles were quivering, shaking so badly she didn't think stopping was such a good idea. "Can we - keep moving?"

"Yeah, yes." He pushed a shake into her hands. "Mix it up with your fingers while I look for the knife."

They walked slower now but it kept her from feeling the exhaustion in her limbs. Three more miles of this. Or maybe a little less than three, but enough to be bad news for her. At the beginning of this trek, twelve hours of darkness had seemed like so much time to do this, plenty. She'd never thought it would be this bad.

Kate worked the foil packet with her fingers, her energy sapped right out of her. But then Castle took it from her and she heard the stab of the small swiss army knife and he was handing it back.

She sucked it eagerly and felt the cool relief at her throat, the pulsing of her heartbeat in her thighs and behind her eyes, making everything rough. The landscape still arched green and vivid in her vision but she was stumbling more now.

Castle's hand came to her jacket and made a fist in the material, gripping hard.

"I got you," he murmured. "Just keep walking, Kate."

Maybe she could really do this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Close Encounters 10**

* * *

When he couldn't stand it anymore, he made her stop.

"What are we doing?" she said. He turned to look at her in the darkness and saw the shake clutched against her chest in a death grip, the sick cast to her skin. Even in the black of night, he could see that.

Not good. She wasn't good. She had to stop pretending she could keep up with him.

"We're stopping. I need to scout ahead. They had a couple of posts to the southeast of here and I want to be sure we're clear of them."

She stared back at him, quiet and dangerous, but she finally nodded.

"Stay here," he murmured then, the relief at her acquiescence releasing through his blood like a drug. "I'll be back in twenty."

"Castle," she gasped.

"I promise."

"Leave me a gun."

He faltered. He hadn't planned on letting her out of his sight - not at all - but he'd wanted her to rest. He'd wanted her to take a moment to let her heart rate slow and her body catch up, drink the stupid shake and just - rest. The scouting ahead part was a ruse because he knew the terrain ahead was going to be hard-going and she needed a moment that she'd never take.

"No one's out here," he said slowly, wondered how to get out of this.

"Leave me a weapon."

He growled and shucked the pack off his back, reached inside for the carefully wrapped gun. He handed it over to her and she checked it, looked at least strong enough and with it to handle it appropriately.

Castle sighed. "Twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes," she replied back. "Want the goggles?"

He winced, but he probably should take them from her, do a little bit of recon since he'd said he would. "Yeah." And that way she wouldn't be able to see him hovering either.

She handed the goggles over and he took them, something tight in his chest that threatened to break.

"You'll be fine. I won't let anyone get near you," he said gruffly.

She sighed. "I know. I'm okay."

Castle gripped her elbow and then quit trying to hold himself away from her, wrapped her shoulders and neck wtih an arm and brought her into him, breathing hard with everything he wouldn't say, couldn't say.

"You keep me safe," she murmured at his ear. So low, so quiet that he almost wasn't sure she'd said it at all.

"I'll keep you safe," he promised again. "Stay here. Twenty minutes."

Even safe from herself.

He released her and walked off into the night.

* * *

She felt eyes on her.

Kate licked her lips and forced herself not to check the weapon again, not to give in to nervous habits.

It was cold, so cold, and her breath ached but at least it still came. The night was black and deep and riddled with sounds: small movements, the stir of wind, the terrors of the last thirteen days.

Thirty-six hours pampered in a cave with Castle couldn't erase the two weeks worth of isolation and fear and hopelessness. Couldn't erase gutting a wolf and burning her fingers on the charred pieces. Couldn't erase the sweeping sense of dizziness and disaster that the night held.

The Black of night.

She grimaced to herself and pulled her knees up to her chin, rested there a moment. She kept her ears open and her eyes closed because her vision was shot at this point anyway, after so long with the goggles, and she wanted to be able to concentrate.

Concentrate past the sensation of eyes traveling over her.

The deep cold of long darkness was a hand against her back, pressing her down. Her breath hurt as it came, but it came; she held on to that. Her breath still came, and easier now than it had in days. She gripped the nutrition pack in her other hand and swallowed down the too-thick sensation that rose in her throat.

She was timing it in her head. If he didn't come back. If it was more than twenty minutes. If it got close to the twenty minute mark and she hadn't heard him approach.

And then what?

She had a gun. It ended one of two ways. Self-inflicted or engaged in enemy fire.

She wouldn't waste away in the desert if he was taken. Or killed. Would they simply shoot him? Leave him to rot, dragged apart by the wolves, picked clean by carrion birds.

His beautiful blue eyes. The curl of his smile. The wideness of his palm that defied all expectation and could be so deft and graceful, so gentle.

What was she doing?

Daydreaming death in the darkness. The eyes watching her. Waiting.

Beckett pressed her closed eyes into her knees and breathed.

At sixteen minutes she heard the rustle of his approach and she stood slowly, took the hand he offered her to help herself up. He'd been on her before she knew it and she'd been paying attention. She'd been listening for him.

He didn't say anything and she wondered if it'd just been her imagination. The eyes on her, the sense that he'd appeared like magic from the velvet.

"Were you right there the whole time?" she whispered.

His fingers tensed around her wrist. He tried to take the gun, but no. No way. That had been the only reason she'd agreed to letting him leave her out here, sitting in the dark for twenty minutes without him, going nowhere - she got a gun.

She grunted when his fingers dug in. "No."

"Kate."

"No. No, you left me alone in the dark. No."

He growled and his hand gripped too hard around hers, but she could hear the way that had punched through to him, hit him where it hurt and _good_. Let it. Let it hurt. Because he'd walked off into the black without her and he'd just _hung around_ for the last - how long? Just sitting close, making her rest? Was that it?

"At least put it in the holster and strap it in with the knife," he said finally.

"So give me the holster," she said back, not willing to relinquish it for a second.

She heard him muttering and rifling through the pack, and she waited, her heart a hard pounding in her chest, a strong beat that wanted to take her off her feet. She'd been better off if they'd just kept walking. She'd been less broken if he hadn't made her sit in the dark alone.

Damn it.

The cracks in her psyche were deeper than she'd realized, and they were ugly.

He handed over the holster and she slid the gun inside, wriggled her finger in the tight band to feel where to loop it through the knife's sheath.

"Let me do it," he sighed out, his body close all of the sudden, the warmth of him cutting through the chill. He took the holster from her easily, proving that he was _letting_ her keep the gun anyway, and she ignored the statement but let him bend down before her.

She'd used the original straps for this knife to create a tourniquet for his leg and there was something about having his fingers skim over her thigh, having his breath hot against the material of her sweatpants as he worked the straps loose that made her head swim.

Kate reached out slowly and skimmed her fingers through his hair, felt him startle. She let him thread the holster at her thigh and then she curled her hand at the back of his head, pressed him against her hip.

"Don't do that again," she murmured. "I can't take it."

He gripped her harder, twisted to bury his face into her stomach, on his knees in front of her. "I won't. I won't. I'm sorry."

* * *

Castle held her hand and tried to keep the frantic, panicked race of his pulse from throbbing where their wrists met. He couldn't seem to let go; he couldn't do any of this right.

He'd learned - once upon a time - that trying to protect her, trying to keep things from her only wounded them both. He'd forgotten that lesson; he'd backslid into silence and superiority, into making decisions for her and ignoring the consequences.

But she'd brought him up short. In the cracking tone of her voice and her grip on the gun, in the way she'd said, _You left me alone in the dark._

How had he ever thought that would be better?

Obviously, he hadn't been thinking.

He'd nearly lost her and it made him crazy. It made him crazy to think of never having her again, of being without, of the world darker for her absence, and not just because she made life so good, so right, but also because he wanted her to have so much more - a husband worthy of her, children she could carry and keep close and watch grow up though never away, closure to her mother's murder and justice for that loss, peace.

Not this. Not what he'd given her.

Her hand flexed in his, her body coming closer in the darkness.

He wouldn't do it again. No matter what. He wouldn't. He'd learned not to be a bully, to not have to control her so he wouldn't ruin things. He'd learned; he swore he had learned. But grief, desperation made him do stupid, stupid things.

He could be better. He would be better. If she just - if they could just make it out of here.

"Stop, Castle," she whispered.

He jerked immediately to a halt but she'd kept going, their bodies tangling when his cessation brought her backwards into him. She let out a breath at his chest and her fingers came up to curl at his waist.

"Meant - no - keep walking," she said quietly. Her body was so thin, so brittle feeling, but at the same time, she was still fierce and strong. "Keep walking. I meant stop beating yourself up."

Her body stayed close even as his feet automatically started forward again. She'd given up on the goggles, said her neck hurt holding up her head, and when they walked at a slower pace by side by side, she was okay. He could catch her before she tripped.

"Castle," she said again.

"Yeah," he answered. Yeah. Stop beating himself up. Right. That was not happening any time soon.

"I'm already - there's already a lot going on," she added, her voice like honey in the darkness. "And I'm bad at being helpless."

No shit.

She let out a tremulous laugh and he honestly didn't _think_ he'd said it out loud. Maybe she was just hearing him anyway.

"I'm as bad at being helpless as you are at, ah, 'helping' me."

"You say helping like it's a euphemism."

"It is."

"For bullying you."

"Yes."

He sighed. But she was right. He was bad about bullying her.

She listed into him, her head coming to his shoulder. "But I'm also so - so far down - I don't think I could put up much of a fight if you really wanted to battle with me on something. So."

"So if I want you to stop and rest-" he started.

"Tell me," she sighed. "I'll be honest about it. I'll stop."

"You will."

"I will."

"Kate. It's - it's vital that we do this right," he said finally, his voice raw over his vocal cords. He didn't want to say this, but he had a feeling she knew. "One wrong step and we are stranded out here with nothing. I didn't expect - I don't know. I calculated wrong or-"

"No. Don't. Don't do that. You're here; you came back for me. I don't care about damn calculations."

He swallowed hard and again that pit of terror widened in him, thinking about what she'd gone through the last thirteen days alone. _You left me alone in the dark._

"But I know it's - it's dicey. I understand. I took inventory. I know what we have to do and I'm counting on you to make me."

He grit his teeth, cursed himself again for not letting Mitchell make him take the time to plan it better.

She knocked her cheek into his shoulder. "You have to make me. Make me keep the pace, make me rest when you think it's necessary. Necessary, Castle. We don't have the luxury of indulging me."

"God," he choked out. "Indulging you. Fuck. Like this is..." He trailed off because words just completely didn't do it justice. How wrong that was. How he wanted so much more for her than this.

Fuck.

"Castle."

"Yes," he hissed.

"I'm tired."

He tripped over his own feet trying to stop, thinking they should keep going, not knowing which was better.

"See?" she said softly. "I'm a liability to you out here and you have to-"

"Don't. No. If I can't second guess myself for my very real and stupid mistakes in planning for this, then you can't second guess your place in my life. I don't get to bully you, fine. But you don't get to believe the shit my father put in your head. We're - both of us - we're past that. We're done with it, therapy to prove it. So promise me."

She was silent; he heard her breathing. Her head was still resting against his shoulder and it made their stride shorter, made the walk awkward, slowed them down.

Promises. He wanted a promise from her and she wanted one from him. Fine. So he nudged her cheek with his shoulder, dislodging her. "Stand up straight, sweetheart. You're slowing us down."

She stiffened and her spine jerked up, her body alert again. There was a heartbeat of expectancy and shock traveling between them, and then she let out a little breath. Almost a laugh.

"Promise," she said. "I promise. You?"

"I do," he let out softly.

_Till death do us part._

* * *

He was getting her back for that, wasn't he? She'd hurt him by being so honest and now he was showing her what honesty really was. He was punishing her. _You asked for it._

His pace was grueling. She didn't think she could take much more of this.

Every step was pain, an ache in her hip that radiated out like white lightning, licking at her bones and vibrating behind her ears. Not sure why her ears, only that the ache in her skull matched the ache in her hip and the hot throb of her arm was like she was carrying a wild thing as it gnawed at the bone.

This was so much worse. So much worse.

Was he testing her? She was failing. Oh, God, she was failing and she couldn't keep this up.

"Castle," she got out.

He had halted before she even finished saying his name and his arms came up around her, lightly, loosely, still strong, and she swayed there, closing her eyes.

"Hey, hey, you with me?" he said in the dark.

The dark was only getting darker. "I don't know," she whispered, felt her body losing its grip.

He had her. He had her; he wasn't letting her fall.

"Five minutes, Kate. Okay? Five minutes. Don't pass out."

"Think... think I should put my head down," she answered.

He had her immediately on the ground, pushing her head between her knees, and her vision bubbled back to the surface, the clamor of sensation coming back to her.

"Here," he said. "Drink this."

"I can't," she said, closing her eyes, breathing.

"Don't want to or really can't?"

She thought for a second, tested the weak boundary of her stomach in her mind. "I don't know."

"Try."

She licked her lips and lifted her head a little. "If I throw up, it's on you."

"I have a feeling you mean that literally."

"I do," she growled back, but she took the shake he'd already punctured a hole in, put her mouth to it. "Gross. What is this?"

"Protein. You need it for recovery."

"I thought you got me all strawberry." Which she was already sick of. Would she never be able to drink a strawberry milkshake again?

"It is strawberry," he muttered. "It's just - it tastes weird. I know. It's the protein, I think."

She drew the viscous liquid into her mouth and tried not to let her tongue touch it.

"If you're complaining about the taste, you can't be that bad off."

"Thought that this morning when I had bad dreams," she said back. And then winced. Oops. Never meant to let that out.

"Bad dreams," he said quietly. "Dreamless before?"

"Yes," she answered, sucking down more of the nasty concoction.

"Dreams are good," he said decidedly. "Deeper sleep. More restorative."

Sure. That's what she'd told herself this morning too. They had the same delusions. Great.

"How do you feel?" he said intently.

"Not gonna pass out now."

"Better then?"

No. "Yes," she answered.

"Stand up?"

No. "Yes."

He reached for her arm and hauled her upright before her feet could even gain purchase. "I'm serious, Kate. I'll carry you."

"Save it for later," she murmured. "Carry me over the threshold of the cave."

He grunted something that might be a laugh and his grip on her upper arm tightened. "Keep drinking. We'll go a little slower but we'll pick it up when you're done with that."

"I'm done," she said firmly, pressing it back into his hands. "I can't any more."

He was silent for a moment, but he only curled the foil down to keep the package somewhat sealed and then shoved it into the front pocket of his pack.

And then he held out his hand for her and she took it.

Back to grueling.

* * *

He had never in his life been so grateful to see a cave.

She let out a strangled noise next to him even as that grey of pre-dawn began to creep over the horizon, letting up on the stranglehold of night. He could see her now, see the pale cast of her face and the bruised set of her eyes, the listlessness in her mouth.

Castle said nothing, merely kept them walking forward, heading for the cave set into the side of the rock, the two of them now on the other side of the ridgeline. They'd made it maybe five miles, but it'd been all angles, going up and then coming back down, and he was shocked they'd made it.

Never count Beckett out.

She was leaning hard against him and he slacked off on their pace as they approached, though he had a feeling that momentum was all that was keeping her upright. He had an arm around her hips and he used his own strength to move her forward, practically slinging her, but at least they weren't cold.

"There's the sun," she said, her voice coming thin, reedy. Last leg. He wished he could let her stay here for days-

Why not? Why couldn't he let them _both_ sleep for a few days here? The Russians weren't camped on their doorstep now.

If he slept, drank maybe just one protein shake before they moved, it wouldn't be wasting a day's rations. Yeah. Yeah, they'd sleep here - she'd sleep here, at least. Let her collapse inside that cave and her body do what it could to heal. He'd make her drink the last of that shake she'd had a few hours back, and then she could drop off into sleep.

It was a plan at least.

"We made it," he said quietly.

She let out a laugh. "We've got like thirty feet to go."

Castle glanced at her, the strain on her face that he heard in her voice, and he let go to sling the pack off his back, moved it around so that it hung like a sling from his front. Then he leaned in, presenting his back to her, grabbing one of her hands and hooking it over his shoulder.

"Castle," she laughed, stumbling up against him. He used it, took the opportunity to reach back with his free arm and grab her, tilting her over his back and then lifting up.

She grunted but drew her legs up and he could tuck his arms under her ass, lace his fingers together to give her a seat. Her ankles hooked around his waist and her cheek came to his shoulder.

"You said carry you across the threshold."

"Didn't realize I was gonna get a piggy-back ride."

He didn't want to admit that carrying her bridal style would do him in. He was weaker than he liked, out of conditioning.

"You got something against piggy-back rides?"

"No," she murmured, and then something like a giggle came out of her mouth, jolting because of his stride. "You gonna give our kids piggy-back rides, super spy?"

She was going to kill him. "Yeah," he said gruffly. "Yeah, both."

"Both?"

"James. And..."

"James?" she murmured in his ear. "Where have I heard that name?"

He flushed hard and realized. "I think I had a dream once. And you asked me-"

"On the plane," she sighed. "You were dreaming about our son?"

His whole body was on fire with it. The way she said it, _our son_, like it was happening, like it had already happened in some alternate universe and she could see it.

Well, so could he. He could see him vividly. "Yeah. I was. But he'd better not show up in the places I dreamed him."

"What?" she laughed. The cave was growing closer.

"He was in Istanbul helping me escape. Like a little sidekick. Kate Beckett, we are _not_ letting our kids stowaway in our luggage on a mission."

She let out a hard breath, her nose, her face pressed against his back. "Oh, Castle. No. We're not."

"But I do think lockpicking is an essential skill," he added thoughtfully.

She collapsed into a laugh and he felt her fingers tighten in his straps of the pack. "I'm sure you do, baby. I'm sure you do."

Was that a yes?

Regardless, he was teaching his kids how to get out of a tight situation. He did realize that meant they were getting _into_ those tight situations. But that's what Beckett was for - teaching them when not to.

* * *

Kate kept her head on his shoulder, didn't let go even when he knelt down on the rock floor of the cave. He chuckled at her, but she could feel the tension and strain in his grip, knew he was pretty worn out himself.

He'd nearly lost his leg; that was what he'd told her.

"Let go, Kate. I'll get out the sleeping bag."

She moaned and released him, sighing a little when he gave her a look. "Just. Sounds like heaven. Never would've thought I'd be looking forward to a sleeping bag in a cave."

He grinned back at her, a little shrug as he pulled the pack off his shoulders. She helped him unstrap the sleeping bag from where it'd been secured below the pack, and they made a nest against one wall.

"It's cold," she murmured, feeling stupid with fatigue, a wave of it drowning her. "I'm cold."

"I know," he said quietly back. "Get in. Warm up."

"What about you? Crawl in with me, Castle," she said. Her hands shook as she unstrapped the harness and holster from her thigh, the velcro sticking.

He shook his head. "I'm going to keep watch for a little while. Make sure no one's patrolling this area."

"We're far back. We'd hear them." She knew it wasn't right even as she said it; she knew that someone would have to keep watch to be certain no one had picked up their trail.

"No, Kate. You sleep. I'll join you later."

She sighed at him but she was trembling all over with exhaustion, her body swaying even as she sat there. She frowned at him but he was unmoved.

"Don't let me sleep too long," she said finally.

"Not too long," he agreed. Too quickly, too smoothly, but she was already canting towards the sleeping bag, her body dragging her down. She felt Castle arranging her, tucking her in, and she realized that her eyes had slammed shut.

She couldn't open them. She was done.

"Sleep, sweetheart," he murmured, a kiss at her forehead, warm and dry.


	3. Chapter 3

**Close Encounters 10**

* * *

The sun had made a weak showing in the sky by the time Castle was finished exploring the terrain. He wasn't satisfied that no one was looking for them - he'd found recent tracks and evidence of activity - but he couldn't do anything about it. Might only be locals who used this area as a regular path.

Castle slunk back through the narrow cave entrance, the dank smell of standing water and the heavier scent of animals. He wasn't stumbling yet, wasn't at the blurred vision and too-thick fingers stages, but he was worn out, his mind not as sharp as it should be for this. He needed sleep, and he knew it.

The natural light faded and the cave tumbled down into darkness once more. Castle paused and strained his eyes but there was nothing to see and he didn't know it well enough to continue on without the flashlight.

He dug it out of his pants pocket and flicked it on, found her at the back where the cave widened out, her body so small in the sleeping bag. She'd left it unzipped on the side and he sank down behind her, blinking in the blue beam, transported back to that terrifying, electric moment when he'd found her after thirteen days of not knowing.

His hands were shaking again. He growled at himself and switched the light off, used a soft touch to untie the laces of his shoes, push them off his feet. When he eased into the sleeping bag at her back, she didn't stir, didn't wake.

He reached out and put his fingers to knobs of her spine, brushed along her shirt over those bones, back and forth until the sensation had his whole body tingling, his skin frayed with the feel of her.

She was heavily asleep; she hadn't moved since he'd left to scan the perimeter.

Castle let out a slow breath and pillowed his head on his arm, tried to keep from needing so much, tried to keep it together. He just had to sleep; he'd get some rest and he'd be good to go.

She was counting on him.

But it was no use. He wrapped both arms around her and drew her back into his chest, cradled her against him, his knee slipping between hers, needing it, needing every point of contact he could manage.

She slept. He could feel her breathing, the rise and expansion of her lungs in her chest and the slow, steady exhale out. Castle buried his nose in her neck, the hair dirty and knotted but her, smelled so richly of her. He sucked in a breath to match hers, tried anyway, and the stutter and tremble of his heart seemed to settle down.

The heat of her body against his, the feel of her breathing, the comforting thump of her heart under his palm, and the musky scent of her skin eased him.

And then he fell asleep.

* * *

He had no idea why he was awake, but awareness came sharply even as the darkness lay thick and complete around him.

He was curled around Kate's body, stiff and muscles aching, and her breathing was so heavy that he loosened his arm, thinking he was suffocating her.

But he wasn't. It wasn't. It wasn't her breathing.

Castle's eyes snapped up and met the glowing ones in the darkness.

He froze and the low growl was so quiet that it snaked through the black and caused the hairs on his neck to rise.

Kate was asleep. His weapon was still in its holster at his back. But his arms were firmly around his wife.

The wolf lifted its snout - Castle could see the shine of its eyes rippling - and then that steady, huffing breath altered as the growl came again.

Castle withdrew his arm slowly, so slowly, moving minutely, keeping his body still and his eyes on the wolf. He felt the soft, brushed cotton of Kate's white shirt, the silky warmth of her skin where it had rucked up, and the harsh flare of her hip.

The wolf snarled.

It was his only warning.

The beast lunged and Castle did too, hurtling himself over Kate and into the wolf's arc, their bodies meeting with the hard jar of bone. Castle grunted and got his hand around the muzzle, the snap and crunch of teeth, elbowing the snout away from his neck.

They fell back together, Castle's weight taking the wolf down as it yelped and growled, but Castle put his knee into the furred body and tried to find his weapon.

The wolf writhed below him and jerked its head back, but Castle dug his elbow into the animal's neck, felt the desperate and violent fight in the beast as it tried to get at him. The nails scraped along Castle's forearms, deep along his abs, but he thumped harder against the wolf and kicked back, away from Kate, getting the beast away.

And then he found his gun.

Castle ripped it from the holster and brought the weapon up and fired.

The boom of the bullet exploding rattled the cave and echoed, and then around it, threaded through it, he heard Kate screaming.

The blood and guts, the warm visceral death of the wolf was splattered over him, but Castle turned on his knees to her and crawled back.

She was yelling, insensible with it - the darkness so deep and the gun and the smell of blood and the taste of wolf musk in his every breath, and how much worse it must be for her - but he couldn't drop the weapon and grab her because behind her, behind her - _damn it_ - a myriad of red, shining eyes.

Wolves.

"Kate," he shouted, jerking forward and snagging her by the neck. He yanked her behind him and fired, the grunting whine of a true shot, fired again, again, aiming for the narrow place between those eyes.

He felt her at his back, her shoulder tense against his, and he heard the percussive of her weapon as well, heard her breathing so harshly it jarred them both, but after a few wolves dropped, the rest of the pack turned and ran.

And then the cave was echoing with the dying clamor of their guns, they were shaking side by side, and an animal left behind was scrambling and yelping on his way out of the cave.

"Fuck," she rasped out. "Fuck."

He dropped the weapon and in the darkness found hers, untangled it from her fingers even as she trembled, and wrapped both arms around her tightly, pitching her into him.

She let out a sob, and it seemed to break the dam. Great and ragged cries were pulled out of her body as he held her, rocking them both, feeling her tears slick and cool on his neck.

* * *

Kate sat cross-legged in a pool of blue light and tried to keep from shivering, the sleeping bag wrapped around her shoulders.

She pressed her hands under her thighs and felt the hard angle of rock crushing her bones, blinked in the sudden wash of nausea.

He had left her with the flashlight while he dragged the bodies towards the front of the cave. She had wanted to help, had wanted to clean the area of pelt and blood, but she could barely sit up straight. She smelled charred meat and the wet heat of innards. She smelled the pale sunlight and the grip of a starvation so intense that she was sick.

"Kate."

She jerked her head up and saw him coming into the light, his hands grimy and dark with blood. "Yeah," she said finally.

"I think this cave must have a tunnel connecting it to another cave. I've got to find it, plug it up."

Plug it up. Oh. With wolf bodies.

"How many?" she said with a crack in her voice.

"Seven."

"I'll help," she said finally and then rocked to her hands and knees.

"Kate-"

"Just looking for a tunnel? That I can do, Castle."

He sighed and reached out a hand, but then she saw him flinch and jerk it back. She got to her feet on her own, slowly, and she felt the tremors go up and down her body. She licked her lips and tasted the faint gristle of wolf, shuddered so hard that Castle grabbed for her.

They swayed there for a moment together, and then he brought her close, his cheek scraping hers, his breath hard at her ear. He smelled like wolf.

"I'm - sorry. I should've looked before we-"

She shook her head. "No. No, Castle. I'm - it's going to take time to not... to be okay when I see eyes in the darkness."

His fisted her hair and she winced, but he kept her against him as he let out another long breath.

"Let's find that other entrance," she whispered.

"Right behind you, love."

* * *

Beckett found the tunnel before Castle could and then she resolutely, with a grim face, helped him make a barricade of dead. The bodies would, he thought, slow down other predators, present a tasty and easy meal before getting into the main cave.

He smelled fresh air wafting in from the access tunnel, so he assumed it came out directly above ground, but soon they had three of the seven carcasses stacked up and the odor of blood and fur was all he could smell.

His hands. His clothes. Covered in it. He had one clean tshirt in his pack, but no clean pants, and he knew without a doubt there was no way Beckett would fall asleep if he smelled like death.

"Let's clean up," he murmured to her quietly.

"You left the others at the entrance?" she said in return.

"Yes. And they're dead. I made sure. No zombie wolves either."

She let out a strangled laugh and gripped his shirt, some of the tension rippling out from her.

"Okay, Kate. Clean up?"

"Yeah," she let out.

He knew he should try to get her opened up, pry off that hard shell she encased herself in whenever something struck too deep, but he wasn't sure she could handle the aftermath. She was the one who felt worse on therapy days, felt churned up and raw, as she'd told him once. Cracking her open about the wolves might only make their trek impossible.

"I've got those wipes in the pack. Change of clothes for both of us."

"My clothes are clean," she whispered.

He glanced at her closer and realized she was mostly right. Smear of something where he'd probably held her too tightly, but mostly clean. Still he was trying to think of ways to wash their stuff later this afternoon, spend their last resting hours scrubbing blood and gore out of fabric.

The sleeping bag.

He swung back to the area of blue cast by the flashlight, but the sleeping bag looked okay. Kate was moving towards his pack and prying things out; she had the wipes in her hands before he could even help.

They sat in silence, scraping the white sanitary cloths down their arms and necks, around their faces, collarbones, behind ears and over their mouths. She was still working on it when he gave up on those little squares actually doing anything for him. He snagged his shirt by the hem and pulled it up over his head.

She let out a gasping breath and he realized she'd gotten a look at the scrapes on his abs from the wolf's paws. He pretended she hadn't, pretended it was still fine. He turned the shirt inside out and used it as a rag, scraping off gristle and blowback from discharging his weapon so close. Kate had pulled her knees up to her chest and now rested her forehead on them, her hands tucked tightly into the cover of her body.

His stomach churned at the sight, but he cleaned off the rest of himself and took a few more sanitary wipes, swiped them over his skin once more. The open, raw places on his stomach burned, but they were shallow; he'd be fine.

He watched her a moment, gave her time to collect herself. "Kate."

She lifted her head and in the blue light, her eyes were so dark. So dull.

"When the gunshot went off, and it woke you..."

"I panicked," she said flatly.

"Were you dreaming?"

"No."

"I'm sorry I left you in the dark."

"I know."

He closed his mouth and sat listlessly in the cool blue light, frowning down at his hands, the nails caked with grime.

"Castle, it's not about that."

He lifted his head to question her but she was already moving towards the sleeping bag, wriggling down into it.

He stayed where he was. "What's it about?"

"Remembering that you're here."

He didn't understand that.

"Crawl in with me, Rick," she whispered. "I need to remember you're here."

Oh.

He shed his pants because he just - he couldn't hold her knowing the smear of wolf was so close - and he untangled his feet from the pant legs and then shivered at the touch of cold rock to his skin.

She waited on him, lifting her arm when he came and curling it around his neck, face to face.

"You're not alone," he murmured to her, bringing his hand to her cheek, curling the hair back behind her ear slowly. So slowly.

She watched him for a long time, a long time, and he didn't close his eyes until she was truly asleep.

* * *

She wasn't asleep. She couldn't.

The darkness sang in her blood and screamed along her nerve endings and even though her body was practically rigid with it, she feigned sleep long enough for Castle to relax and drop off.

And then she opened her eyes.

Her erratic heart had calmed to something approximating normal, her palms weren't damp with flop sweat any longer, and her mouth didn't taste like metal. Her stomach wasn't cramped either, so there was that small victory.

It was just the glittering and bright edge of panic still cresting through her in little waves, swells of it that she could barely keep her head above.

Just a pack of wolves. No big deal.

They had guns. And training had kicked in - finally, she thought bitterly - and they had Castle. Castle was a force. A professional, yes, but also so much more than that - the man who loved her in a nearly obsessional way. And so-

And so she'd drawn her weapon - finally - and joined him where she should've been. At his side.

Just some wolves. Their cave had been taken over by a couple of humans and so they'd investigated.

It was natural. It was survival. It was kill or be killed.

So why did falling asleep feel like _dying_?

Beckett finally groaned and scooted closer to Castle, pressed her cold hands to his neck and his back, gripping him. "Castle," she murmured. "Castle, please."

He jerked awake in an instant, his hands clutching her, his head lifting and causing her chin to smack into his cheekbone. She winced, her jaw aching, and he was cradling her face now, whispering her name.

"What's wrong?" he rasped. "Kate? What's wrong?"

"I can't sleep. I can't fall asleep. I'm so tired. I'm so tired and I have to - we have to go tomorrow but I can't even keep my eyes closed."

"We don't have to go tomorrow," he whispered back, petting her hair, brushing his lips lightly along her cheeks and nose, her eyelids, every word another layer around her. "We're not going tomorrow. We'll hole up here another day and rest. Get ourselves back together. Take it slowly."

She let out a twisted breath, knotted and tangled, and felt him draw her against his bare skin, the warmth and heat of him melting her down.

"No pressure, Kate. You don't have to fall asleep. Just lie here with me."

She sucked in a long and shuddering breath, like she'd been crying, and gripped the back of his neck. "Tell me a story."

"What?"

"Tell me a story. So I can listen. And not fall asleep."

He was silent for so long that she felt choked, closed up and pressed down by darkness, but then he let out a laugh at her ear.

"Can it be a dirty story? Cause that's all I got right now."

She laughed and they both ignored the note of hysteria in it, let it go on like it was normal and fine, just fine.

"Try harder," she said then, her hand in a fist at his back.

"Okay," he whispered back. "Okay. Compromise then. Before we left for Rome this time - was that six weeks ago? - I dropped Sasha off at Carrie's house by myself because you were already on a flight out, helping Malone with tech support. I came back to our home, feeling really bad about leaving the dog again, and I found that dirty note you left on the bathroom mirror, written in your eyeliner."

She closed her eyes, remembering. She'd written _fuck me when you find me_ on the bathroom mirror and it'd felt like the most amazing, naughty, fantastic thing to tease him so mercilessly. It'd felt like his eyes were on her even as she'd been alone, ready to leave for an operation in Rome and who knew how many days or weeks apart.

How little she'd known.

"I saved it; I didn't wash it off. It's still there. And when I picked up my phone to text you that I'd seen your note, my phone had been changed again. The background picture was you, sweetheart, and that smirk I love."

She smiled at his neck. "I took it right after I wrote the note."

"I could tell. That smirk and nothing else, Kate Beckett."

She was grinning now, her blood thrumming with a different kind of tension, and if she weren't absolutely and completely worthless in both mind and body right now, she'd do something about the liquid arousal in his voice.

"That's waiting for us at home," he whispered then, his lips skirting her jaw. "It's waiting for us, Kate. We're going to make it back there."

She believed him.

* * *

He sat cramped in the entrance to the cave, as far from the piled wolf carcasses as he could get, watching the sun set on their first day. She was asleep at the back, wrapped in the sleeping bag, and he was having trouble leaving her.

He didn't want to leave her alone.

But he thought it was important to find water - that was a priority - and he wanted to wash his clothes. Not so much a priority, but he hated the way she flinched whenever she woke and smelled him, smelled death and gore and wolf, and he wanted to do away with it as much as possible.

But leaving her seemed a very bad idea.

The caves followed the line of the underground river, or the river followed the caves - hard to know which had come first. If he did some exploring, he might find that water source again.

It wouldn't be far - he wouldn't let himself get very far. And he'd left the flashlight with her so that the blue beam spilled around her body and made her eyelids look translucent, her cheekbones glowing. He held the image of her, safe and asleep, in his mind's eye, let it soak into his still-raw heart.

She should sleep all night and then he would wake her in the morning to eat; he'd sleep as much as possible himself. It was a good plan. Solid plan. A plan was necessary to survival.

Shit, he didn't want to leave. He really didn't want to leave her, but he needed to replenish their water supply and he wanted to clean up, and if he found a good spot, he could take her right before dawn and wash her hair and she might feel better, feel human again and not the hunted thing in a cave.

Castle realized his hands were clenched so tightly that his pulse thundered through his wrists. He released his fingers and took a breath, inhaling courage and strength and resolve, and then he let it out, released the black cloud of death.

He shifted to his feet and crawled out through the cave's pinched mouth, shuffled into the setting sun, letting the light lick along his features and shine in his eyes.

Time to go.

* * *

"Kate."

The heavy weight shifted and the warmth spread.

"Sweetheart."

Who the _hell_ called her sweetheart?

"Kate, love-"

"Cast-" she rasped. Eyes opened. Or maybe closed. Black everywhere.

"Hey, there. You awake?"

She felt the fingers at her cheek and brushing across her lashes, confirming her eyes were open. They were open. His body was under and over hers, she felt her skull resting in the crook of his elbow and the warm palm of that arm cuddling her.

Oh. _He_ - Castle. Castle called her sweetheart. She couldn't remember when she'd let him start doing that. And where were they? Why-

_wolf_

She jerked up and was awake with a brutal snap of her forehead into some portion of his hard skull and she groaned as the blow resounded through her bones.

"Ouch," he muttered.

"Ouch is right. Jeez, Castle. Your chin?"

"Cheekbone. You're awake now."

She leaned into his chest and rubbed her hand over her head then dropped her fingers to the tender place at his cheek.

"Other side," he murmured.

She laughed and cupped his face, felt the heat of the injury and his body around her, but she still smelled it everywhere. Death and blood. The gristle of fur.

"Hard to wake you," he whispered at her ear. His fingers danced at the hem of her tshirt and then slipped beneath the material, touching her skin and brushing slowly.

"Sorry. Tired."

"Still?"

"Hmm, yeah."

"Have the energy to walk a little ways outside while it's still dark?"

She heard something in his voice that caught her attention. "Walk where?"

"Just a little ways. To a cave. I can carry you if you want."

She couldn't help the smile that curled the edges of her mouth. "Maybe."

"What?" he laughed out, cupping her neck. "You want me to carry you?"

"That was fun before," she whispered back. Stupid. Her cheeks were flaming hot with it. But.

"Piggy-back ride it is, then."

She hummed and slipped a leg across his thigh, braced herself at his chest. The sleep had done wonders, though she still felt as limp as a noodle, like she'd collapse if someone pushed on her.

"How's your cheek?" she said quietly.

"I'll live."

"Thank God."

He grunted on something she thought might be a laugh, and she was glad for it. Glad they'd found a way to be lighter while sitting here in the darkness. Kate drew her arms around his neck and took in a deep breath right against his skin. Still she smelled wolf.

She let go of her too-tight grip and left her hand curled at his nape, fingering the short hair and the soft skin, memorizing him and calling his shape to mind with just her touch.

"So where we going?" she asked finally, smoothing her thumb along his pulse.

"I found something for you," he said with a little pleased tone to his voice. She could see him so clearly in her head, how he'd be proud of himself and his smile shining and the crinkle of his eyes that made her just - just _adore_ him. She adored him.

"You found something for me," she echoed. "What?"

"It's a surprise. You wanna go?"

"Yeah. Yes," she said softly. "Carry me?"

"Of course, sweetheart. My pleasure."

She squeezed her knees at his hips and he choked, a laugh tumbling out of his mouth. His hands pushed up her shirt as he skated towards her shoulders, bare skin to bare skin, and then his lips were against hers, softening into a kiss.


	4. Chapter 4

**Close Encounters 10**

* * *

Kate snaked her arms around his neck as he carried her on his back through the darkness and over the rocks and scrub brush towards the other cave. She breathed against his ear, not exactly even but at least consistent, present. He'd tucked his arms under her knees and she rode easily, a warm weight at his back.

"Here we go," he said, finding the landmark he'd picked out. The stubby tree was probably watered by the underground stream, which was why he'd searched this area so carefully, why he'd found the little brook at all.

He let go of one of her knees and she slid off his back and down, holding onto him for balance. "Where's here?"

"About two miles from our camp," he answered.

"What'd you bring with you?" she murmured back.

"You'll see." He had stuffed what they'd need into one of his pants pockets, and even though it made a bulky bulge against his thigh, he hadn't wanted her to know.

She walked a little ways from him but stopped and glanced back at him. "Where are we going?"

"Another cave. Come on." He grinned at the wrinkling of her nose and reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together and guiding her towards the dark entrance of the cave.

"Another cave," she echoed, a note of mock indignation in her voice that he liked. It sounded so normal. "Castle, you always take me to the best places."

He laughed at that, squeezing her fingers between his as he moved them over the threshold and into the darker depths inside. She drew closer to him, right at his back, her breathing shallow but fast, and he let her crowd him even though it made it hard to move.

When they were far enough from the entrance, he flicked on the flashlight and she eased away, settling back as the light penetrated the space. This cave was incredibly narrow, the entrance like a tunnel, and they were forced to go single file.

She had more strength in her gait than he'd expected, and as they had to hunch over and stoop through the narrowest part, she managed to keep up with him.

She must have heard the water before him because there was a caught breath and then she was pushing against him, moving faster and slipping right under his arm and through the tunnel to the other side.

"Castle," she cried out.

"I brought soap," he said as he watched her stop still in the blue beam.

She'd been brought up short by the sudden expansion of the tunnel into a steep cavern, and as he came in behind her, all he could see was the four foot waterfall tumbling down into the basin and flowing off into darkness.

"You found us a shower," she murmured, and then she turned and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his neck.

* * *

The water was freezing and she was naked.

Kate wrapped her arms around her torso and shivered violently, but she stepped away from Castle when he made a move to haul her back out. He was still standing on the sloping side of the stream.

"No," she said, teeth chattering. "No, I want to stay."

"All right," he said slowly. The blue light from the torch spread soft fingers over his face and made his concern as pitted as the moon. "But Kate... I don't have towels or anything to dry you off. You'll be cold for a while."

"I'll survive," she said, let the wryness cut through her voice. She was having trouble staying upright against the current, but the thundering of the waterfall at her back was alluring and omnipresent. She felt her feet digging into rock and mossy growth as she struggled to push against the water, but it only came up to her waist.

"Jeez," he sighed. "You're killing me here." But now he was stripping off his clothes and joining her in the frigid water.

He yelped when his thighs disappeared, sank down to dunk his whole head under. He came up on a yell and splashed her hard; Kate gasped and clutched his arms as he reached for her.

"I hate you," she spluttered, blinking through water as the chills raced up and down her spine. "Fuck, that's cold."

He was grabbing at her, tugging her closer with an inelegance and gracelessness that said he was as numb and frozen as she was, but she laughed and let their skin rub, the friction of their bodies spark a little heat.

"You didn't have to get in, you idiot."

"For better or worse, right?"

She laughed and laid her cheek against his shoulder, the cold scraping its nails at her thighs, splashing her spine. She realized he'd pushed them farther back, that the waterfall was close now. The power of it - even at only about a four foot drop, even tumbling down into this meager basin - the power of it made her thrum with awareness, her blood vibrating to its pitch.

Castle's body, naked against hers, burning with cold, made her want things, pushed her like a current towards _alive_. The water pushed back, nudging her again and again into him, legs tangling, feet under the water stumbling, chests brushing. He was naked; she was naked; they were here, together.

She curled her hands at his biceps and turned her head so that she could bury her cold nose into his neck, smell the metals in the water against his skin.

"Long as we both shall live," she murmured back finally, her sigh bringing goose bumps up over his flesh.

His hand came up slowly, skimming her ribs with chilled drops of water that ran back down and caused her to shiver. He traced his thumb at the side of her breast and cupped her shoulder before he palmed the back of her head. He tapped two fingers against her neck, a hum breathed out as he dropped his head closer, brushing his mouth against her ear.

"Can I wash your hair?"

* * *

She shivered so hard that he thought she'd drown in just three feet of water. But he kept an arm around her shoulders and watched the way her face tilted back to the rush and tumble of the waterfall, the crush of it doing more to wipe everything clean than any stupid sterile cloth ever could.

Maybe she wanted to drown herself a little.

He could understand that.

Castle pulled her upright again, loving the gasp and blink and laughter that came with it, the way she rubbed at her eyes with trembling fists and scraped her hair back from her face.

"Steady?" he said, louder to combat the roar of water.

She nodded and he let her go, reached to the rock shelf for the soap again. Just liquid soap, a little harsh and smelling of hospitals, but he squeezed it out of the tube much like toothpaste and lathered it up between his hands as best as he could.

She bounced on her toes in front of him, still squeezing water out of the ends of her hair, blinking hard even as the jeweled drops clung to her eyelashes, the end of her nose, made delicious trails down the cradle of her collarbone.

She tilted her head back and turned when he raised his hands, and he slowly worked the soap into her hair, massaging her scalp and shifting his stance wider when she came up against him, pushed there by the current of the water.

She looked like a selkie in the blue light, looked ethereal and unworldly with the way her jaw jutted so fiercely into the darkness, the prominent rise of her bones under her skin. She made him ache, and it wasn't good, none of it was good except maybe the fact that she was still alive.

She was alive and her eyes were closing as her head dropped back farther into his hands, her body practically draped over his, her legs straddling his thigh as he held her up. She was alive and the feel and touch and length of her body could be remade strong again, built up once more. It wouldn't be so wasted forever.

"Stop thinking so hard," she rumbled out, turning her head and piercing him with a sharp look.

"Can't help it," he said, shrugging even as he untangled the ragged ends of her hair from his fingers.

She sighed and stared at him as if memorizing his features, tracing the lines of his face with her eyes. He ignored the sentiment and the seriousness and tried to stop, choosing instead to lose himself in the work of her hair.

"I should just cut it," she said. "You have scissors handy?"

"No," he muttered.

"Oh, well. The knife will do. Hack at it, Castle."

"No," he answered again, frowning at her. "I don't want to do that."

"Can't get attached," she laughed softly. "It'll grow back. It's hopelessly tangled."

"No, it's not. I can get it. Just give me some time."

She turned around and leaned into him, laying her head against his shoulder and dislodging his fingers. He cradled her there but brought both hands now to her gnarled hair, dipped their bodies lower in the water to ease the strands apart.

She shivered and drew her legs around his waist, rocked closer, and he gritted his teeth to keep his body from responding.

Now _that _was hopeless. He always responded to the call of her body.

"Give me some time," she murmured at his jaw, pressing a kiss to his skin that burned all the way down to his toes. "That's not hopeless either."

He sighed out softly and curled both hands at her head, holding her so close, so tight, that he smothered out her shivering and sealed their cold skins together.

He wanted to, really. He wanted to give them both some time. But this moment in the water was an illusion, time out of time, and he couldn't let it lull him into a false sense of security. They had miles to go.

Still. He wasn't cutting her hair with the knife. He just couldn't.

* * *

"Gotta get out," she chattered, her arms curled up against her chest and still leaning into him.

"Yeah," he said, already moving them towards the rock slopes of the stream. "We're getting out. You okay?"

"Just cold," she said. And exhausted. Really tired, so tired. She found she couldn't feel the rocks beneath her feet, and she smacked her knee into the bank as he helped her out.

"Whoa, hang on," he said. "I got you."

She stumbled but he really did have her; he dragged her to her feet and she clung to his neck as she shivered. Her hair was heavy on her back and snaked along her neck; Castle fisted his hand in it and squeezed the water out.

"Gotta get dressed," she shivered.

"Still wet."

"Too cold to be naked," she muttered at him, leaning away to find her underwear, her tshirt.

"I can fix that," he murmured, his hands broad over her hips. But as cold as her own. Did her no good.

"Clothes, super spy. Where are my clothes?"

He gave a good-natured grumble but let her go and turned around, scooping her clothes off the rock floor. She was freezing but she felt clean finally, her head heavy with the weight of her hair but at least it wasn't matted and grimy any more. They'd spent so much time in the water so he could untangle it.

Castle squatted down at her feet, holding out her underwear for her to step into it. She put her hands on his shoulders for balance, brushed her thumbs over the hard ridge of muscle. He was sweet, trying to help her get dressed, and she put first one foot through and then the other, a little disgusted by how her legs shook.

He skated her panties up and leaned in, his mouth to her belly button in a cold kiss. She slipped her fingers through his wet hair, palming his skull until he tilted his head back to look at her.

"You okay?"

She nodded.

He turned around and came back to her with her sweat pants; she slipped into the legs and felt his hands as they pulled the pants up, the way her damp skin caught at the material. She shivered again but this time it was the trail of fingers up her sides as he rose.

The tshirt came over her head but stuck against her wet spine. He tugged it into place, his hands leaving a trail of fire along her skin, burning awareness that made her grip his arms to keep her balance.

He pressed her against his nude body and brushed a kiss to her cheek. "Don't fall asleep on me quite yet."

"Hurry then," she murmured back, but she wasn't sleepy. She was suddenly more awake, more vivid and real than she had been in the sharply cold river or the tumult of the waterfall. More here with him in the blue light that licked along his body, her breath icy and filled with the scent of his skin like a taste.

Castle stepped back, moving to get his clothes, and it felt like they were still connected by threads of awareness, startling and intense. She watched him, the thick and firm thighs and the curve of his ass up to the dimples at the base of his spine. His back was broad, muscles lashed over his ribs and spanning those wide shoulders, and his arms were strong and sure.

The light of the torch in this deeply dark cave made him look ethereal, unreal, but it also reminded her of that moment in their home, finding him standing in the beautiful golden glow.

Sunlight and angels that day, and moonlight and the supernatural now. She didn't have a name for what it was he appeared as, for the vision before her. Only that they were two sides of the same coin, the duality of his nature, and she was so very grateful that neither side had won.

It was the spy in him that had saved her life, but her husband who had moved heaven and earth to get back to her. It took both to make this possible, the entirety of his being, and if there was a civil war in him once, now he was unified, whole, hers.

"Castle," she said.

He turned his head to look at her even as he finished getting dressed, shrugging his shirt over his head and shaking the water out of his hair. Her words deserted her at the happiness on his face in this moment, how proud he was to have found her this place, given her this. She smiled at him and he reached for her, drawing her body to his, sliding his knee between hers and giving her a place to rest.

"What?" he murmured when still she said nothing.

Kate hooked an arm around his neck and closed her eyes. "Piggy-back ride on the way back?"

"Of course," he said immediately. "Your chariot awaits."

* * *

Castle felt the twinge in his leg the moment he took the bad step, the moment the rock shifted under his foot. He gritted his teeth and ignored it, kept going even as he felt Kate melt against his back.

"Don't fall asleep," he murmured at her.

"I'm not," she sighed.

This would be so much harder if she slipped unconscious. Castle made quick work of the distance back, feeling the pain in his leg at the site of the scar and deeper into his muscle, but he didn't let on. He'd rest with her for these daylight hours and then they'd get going again.

He just needed to rest. He'd been bad off for the last thirteen days or so and he knew he shouldn't push it too far, but he'd do what needed to be done.

"Castle," she mumbled. He could just see their cave hulking in the darkness.

"Yeah."

"Castle, falling asleep."

"Not yet, sweetheart. Just a few more yards."

"Talk to me. Keep me awake."

He huffed out a breath and snatched it back in, trying to avoid upsetting his rhythm. She clutched at his neck and he twisted his head to keep her from choking him. She was still so cold, her skin like ice, and her fingers were strangling.

"Sorry," she said, easing her grip. "Tell me a story. I'm gonna pass out."

Pass out? "Uh. How about the time I was in Cairo?"

"Heard it before."

He growled and she laughed a little, a puff of breath at his neck as she was even still beginning to slide off. Castle hoisted her up, clutching her thighs harder, and her knees squeezed around him in response.

"Okay, how about the second time I went back to Ireland?"

"Not Colleen?"

"No, after her."

"Mm, haven't heard it. Go."

He shook his head at her in the darkness, but talking might keep him from thinking about the way his leg ached. Despite it leaving him a little short of breath.

"So the second time I was in Ireland, I was looking for Foley again. I was obsessed. To put it mildly."

"Mildly, hmm?"

"Yes. I'd traced him to Belfast, Northern Ireland and then he'd used the corridor to sneak out to Dublin. He wasn't supposed to be able to come and go between Ireland and Northern Ireland, so I had the mission to block his route."

"Uh-huh, how'd that work out for you?"

"Yeah, shut up. Not so hot."

She laughed against him, the band of her arm across his shoulder getting weaker. They were nearly there; she just had to hold on for a few more yards.

"It was on the Red Line that I discovered his conduit. A conductor of the light rail had been passing information back and forth between Dublin and a contact in Tallaght."

"That's south? Farther away."

"Right. Tallaght is south of Dublin. But from there, they ran a smuggling business across the Channel. So he admitted Foley was heading across to a little place near Liverpool from Dublin and then traveling to Isle of Man and-"

"That sounds too complicated."

"Well, see, it was," he admitted. "And it turned out to be a ghost. But I leaned on this guy hard enough and he gave up the whole group operation in Tallaght. We never got Foley, never got word on whether or not he was involved, and if he had been using that smuggling group to do some of his own work, well..."

"He disappeared," she murmured.

"Yeah. But the story I was going to tell you about was riding the Red Line."

"Hm?"

"It was beautiful. The whole area was - it's economically depressed of course, but Dublin is a fascinating and momentous city. There are statues erected to everyone you can think of and they take their history seriously."

"Oh," she sighed, her voice faint. The cave was close, very close; if she could hold on another few feet. Castle jostled her a little and she grunted, her cheek rolling against his shoulder blade. "It was beautiful?" she murmured.

"Yeah. We passed a suburb on the way out of Dublin, heading south, and on the platform I saw this little kid. He was running alongside the light rail like he wanted to catch it - like he thought he actually could."

"Yeah?"

She was with him now; he could hear it in her voice. "Yeah. He had on these thick pants and his shoes made more racket than the tram. He looked like a street urchin, really, but transposed in this ultra modern world, like something from Dickens had come alive."

Finally. The cave. Castle ducked down and moved inside, reaching back to catch her before she could slip. She stood on her own two feet now but she leaned heavily against him, resting there.

"Tell me the rest," she whispered.

"It was the first time I'd seen something that made me want to stop," he murmured back, his words echoing off the rock and sounding strange.

"Stop?"

"Stop the tram. Stop the world. Stop doing what I did and how and why. Stop hurting people. Find that boy and - I don't know. Be him."

She sighed against him, her fingers at his ribs, and he slowly eased around until he could faintly see her in the dark. His leg flared once as he twisted, but subsided back into a dull roar.

"Rick," she murmured.

"I hurt people, Kate. I kill people. I wanted to stop. I still do, sometimes. I still wrestle with being good enough for you-"

She shut him up with her mouth pressed against his, her fingers gripping the back of his neck and her body listing hard into him. He cradled her against him, holding her up, and he felt her thighs push over his leg, spreading to anchor herself there.

"I love you," she murmured then, her mouth so close, breathing the same breath. "I love all of you. So long as you wrestle with it, so long as you struggle, I think that makes you a good man. A very good man, Rick Castle."

He buried his face in her neck and held on tightly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Close Encounters 10**

* * *

She kept waking to find him asleep. That was good. It was.

It meant he was resting too.

She just didn't like how much it meant he needed it - the rest. Or how much sleep she wasn't getting herself, when she kept startling into consciousness with the taste of wolf on her tongue.

Kate shivered in the sleeping bag and wriggled a little closer to him, pressing her forehead against the hard angle of his elbow. She wanted his voice to lull her back to sleep, another mission story to crowd out her nightmares.

But he was still asleep, and apparently he needed it. She'd felt the way his gait had changed sometime during their trek back, and she wondered about his leg, worried over it. Probably why the dream had taken the turn it had, with the wolf jumping him and the sound of teeth sinking into his thigh and his scream-

Kate groaned and her eyes popped open, but it was still darkness. Unrelenting black.

She wormed her way closer, sliding in under his bent arm, pressing her nose to his chest and hiding her face in the hard curve of his body. He was warm, and he smelled like bad soap and metallic water and wet rock, but under all that was something else.

Maybe it was just the lack of wolf, lack of blood, but maybe it really was his own natural scent. She always thought that was ridiculous, had never gotten that close with anyone to know. What she remembered of her mother was laundry and that perfume her father had always bought. Every Christmas. He'd done it that last year as well and the scent had lingered for years; maybe her father had opened the bottle from time to time to smell it. That had been her mother.

Her father was perhaps the cold water and greenery of life outdoors, of the cabin, even though when she'd been little he was paper and law libraries and smoke from time to time. But those were two people carrying other scents with them, two people she'd snuggled in close to who had layers of smell over them. But Castle. Was there something inherent in his skin?

She remembered, when she'd first met him in that interrogation room, that he'd smelled like a suit. A faint whiff of aftershave and mostly starched shirts and a steam iron. Nothing more. The hint of sweat but she hadn't gotten that close.

And then when they _had_ gotten that close, everything else overwhelmed whatever essence of him had always been there.

But Kate thought she could detect it now. Oil and skin, the sensation of being in a bed far from here with his arms wrapped around her and his body heavy in the mattress, sinking them both down. When she closed her eyes, there was no longer a twisted dreamscape but the soft breathing and the scent of him transporting her.

Home. Taking her home.

And she could sleep in the promise of that scent.

* * *

Third night.

Four protein shakes. Four MRE's. Two protein bars he'd forgotten he had packed into the side pocket. Eight nutrition shakes. Three full bottles of water - the liter bottles - plus he'd filled her makeshift water canteen thing she'd made. Jeez, just seeing it made him nervous and sick at heart, thinking of her scrounging out here for thirteen days - shit - thirteen days when she just...

No. Stop. Couldn't think about that.

It was only the third night. He'd sucked down a protein shake before they had set out and now his stomach cramped with hunger pains but he ignored it. Kate kept throwing him looks; she could probably hear it, but he wouldn't admit to it.

The darkness made it difficult to see the terrain, but thankfully they were soon going to move past the rocky outcroppings and down the ridgeline into the Russian steppe.

That also meant they were running out of hiding places. He had no idea where they'd camp - probably out in the open - but the thought of it wrapped cold fingers of panic around his spine. They had three hours of night left before sunrise would begin creeping across the horizon, and he had to find something. He'd take anything if it meant they weren't just camping out.

They might have to start walking during the day, risk being recognized, because sleeping during the day when they were out here without cover just wasn't going to be possible.

"Castle," she panted out.

His fingers squeezed around hers before he turned his attention to her. Not that his attention was ever anywhere else, but at least he could let her see how intensely he was watching her.

"Take a second," she said, her breath indrawn sharply.

He stopped immediately, rocking on his feet as he did, and she stumbled beside him, her body already leaning towards his. Castle gripped her waist and felt the sweat that had slicked her shirt, the heat of her exertion riding off her skin in waves.

"You okay?" he murmured, cupping the back of her neck and smoothing his thumb over the sweat at her hair. It had dried overnight into a curly mess, snaking around her head and down her shoulders, and he loved the wild, untamed look of it. Made his stomach clench.

Or maybe that was the lack of real food.

"I'm okay," she sighed out. "Catching my breath."

"We should stop soon."

"Where?"

"I don't know. Anyplace we find."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yes," he admitted tightly. "I don't want us out in the open but we've got to make the distance. Get to the grassland before the sun comes up."

"If we push it tomorrow, what about one of the outcroppings at the end of the rdigeline?"

He set his jaw and tried to remember the map, where exactly it ended in relation to the distance they still had to go before they got back to the farm truck. "I don't know. I don't think it's far enough, Kate."

"I'm not sure I can go that far," she said shortly, shaking her head against him.

He went still; he'd been keeping track of her, he'd been watching her so closely, but he hadn't seen this coming. She was better at hiding than he'd realized.

"Okay," he said slowly, trying to reassess.

"I'm sorry."

"No, no, sweetheart. Nothing to be sorry for."

She was gripping his biceps so tightly he could feel her nails against his skin and he realized she was listing so hard into him that he was having trouble keeping her upright. "Castle. Castle, I think-"

"I got you, I got you," he whispered, crouching down and pushing her head between her knees.

She groaned and put her hands on her neck; he scratched her back and combed her hair behind her ear, got it out of her face.

"You okay?"

She shook her head no and he could see the way her fingers trembled on the vulnerable skin of her neck.

"Kate," he breathed out, and caught her just as she passed out.

* * *

She woke slowly, feeling drugged, something cold and wet touching her neck.

"Castle."

"Hey. Nice of you to join me," he murmured, his fingers shifting to run across her forehead.

"Why am I-?" She stopped and lifted a hand to her eyes, swallowed it back. "Okay. Help me up."

"You sure?"

"No. But we don't have time to lie around."

"Hardly just lying around, Kate. You passed out."

"Been there, done that." She waved off his concern and worked hard to sit up, ignoring the rush and sparkle of a glittering darkness around her vision.

"Yeah, that's not funny," he muttered, but he was helping her to her feet.

"Not funny, just true," she sighed back. She was wobbly, her knees had too much give, but she bit it back and rode out the sensation with her arm hooked in his. "We have to go."

"No. We'll find a place. You sit here and I'll scout-"

"I am not sitting alone in the dark," she said harshly.

There was quiet, the night pressing down between them, and then she felt him nod.

"Right. No. Of course not," he said. "But we'll start searching for something to hide us."

"There were... trees," she said. "A few yards back. And one of those overhangs. Might be able to shelter in the lee of the rock."

He made a noise at her side but she thought it might be that he was impressed that she'd remembered. But she'd been paying attention - she'd been reaching the last of her endurance for the last hour or so, but she'd wanted to be able to give him an alternative. Not just collapse on him in the middle of things. Like she had. Best laid plans.

"All right," he said slowly. "Where exactly was that?"

"Back southwest, along the ridge. I tripped on a vein of rock - it was a little more crumbly; it gave-"

"Right, right," he murmured, and she felt his body turning against hers as his eyes scanned behind them. "Yeah, it was shale or talc, something like that. I remember. Okay. I can get us there."

She let out a soft breath and didn't even suppress her smile. "Castle. I can get us there."

"Oh. Good, good. 'Cause..."

"You have no idea."

"I got no idea," he laughed. "Fine. Lead the way. You want the flashlight?"

"No need," she murmured, and then she leaned in and softly kissed the ridge of his jaw in gratitude.

She could backtrack the last few hundred feet, no problem. It would be going back uphill a little ways, but she could do it.

She could.

Just had to keep telling herself that.

* * *

He felt the wind on his neck and adjusted the sleeping bag slowly, angling it over his head while he tried to keep from waking her. She was nestled down in the cove of his body, her arms pulled up into her chest and cradling his right hand like she never wanted to let go.

He was good with that.

The sunlight was at his back and their faces turned towards the rock overhang that sheltered them. Barely. They'd had to curl up pretty tight to keep from being spotted and at least the dun-colored sleeping bag let them blend into their surroundings. If he was careful to keep the purple lining from showing.

Still he couldn't sleep.

He'd find himself drifting off and waking again, though he assumed there were periods of unconsciousness in between, time unaccounted for. He wasn't able to rest knowing that they were so exposed, knowing that the Russian army was scouring the countryside for whomever might still be alive on the tactical team that had destroyed their underground lab.

It just didn't sit well with him, being out here.

Kate was deeply asleep and hadn't moved in the last five hours. He was grateful for that at least. The weak sunlight slanted across the foot of the sleeping bag but offered no warmth. He had to rest; he had to. They'd never make it if he didn't get some sleep.

Castle pressed his nose down into the nest of her hair, breathing in the harsh soap and the oil of her skin, and he tried to force his body to shut down.

But it was no use.

* * *

Over the next few days, she woke when he dragged her up out of darkness, and she walked when he dragged her out into darkness. She went from one black to another, pushing her feet to keep going, her legs to lift, wrecked as she was.

They were moving through grassland now and she knew he wasn't getting much sleep even as she completely dropped into unconsciousness the moment her body slipped down into the nest of him. He looked haggard, dark circles under his eyes, but she'd lost track of when he'd eaten, when he'd slept, when he'd done anything to keep himself going.

They encountered more patrols down here, had to sink down into the grass to avoid detection. She would keep her face pressed to the dark, cold dirt and close her eyes, her hand fumbling for the gun she still had on her, the weapon he hadn't yet taken away.

When dawn smudged the sky with grey, they stopped where they were and made a bare camp - just the sleeping bag and his pack, their bodies huddled close and the wind crashing through the grass like a beast.

He kept promising _soon_. Soon. He had a truck hidden out here, close by. It wouldn't be much longer.

And in the darkness, he could hide from her - hide how little he was eating, hide the faltering in his steps, hide the worry in his eyes. It was only when they stopped and the black was just beginning to ease its stranglehold on the world that she could see how bad it was.

So she didn't tell him she could barely feel her legs, didn't tell him that she had nightmares about the wolf and she woke to feel him still awake, didn't tell him that she slogged through mile after mile with a sense of darkness swimming in her head.

Until she passed out again.

When she came to, Castle was hovering over her, the shadow of his form blocking out the stars, and his voice urgent and intense in her ears.

"Kate. _Kate_. Wake up, love. Kate-"

"'Wake," she slurred out, but it was a struggle. Nothing wanted to resolve. "I'm here."

"Shit," he grunted, wrapping his arms around her and hauling her up against his chest. "Don't do that to me. Don't do that to me again."

He was shaking. She lifted a hand and caught the back of his neck, curling her fingers into his warmth. "How long?"

"The last ten minutes."

"Well, that's not good," she sighed, her face pressed into his shoulder. He was still shaking. That scared for her or was he losing his strength too?

God, no. Couldn't. He had to do this because she definitely couldn't.

His arms were tight bands around her, his hand cupping her skull, tangled in her hair. "You should eat."

"Have you eaten?" she whispered.

"You should eat something, Kate. Another shake."

"And you?" she said again, trying to be fierce but unable. Her voice shook. Her fingers were numb. She swallowed hard and he was digging around in the pack for a shake. "Castle. You. Have you eaten?"

"Doesn't matter," he muttered, already squeezing the foil pack of a shake. "Here."

She took it from him but didn't drink it, just watched him for a long moment.

"Kate. You passed out. Come on."

"Have you eaten?" she said, perfectly willing to hold her own health hostage for that information.

"No," he gritted out. "Now eat."

She lowered her head and forced back the black well of despair that rose up in her. But she put her mouth to the shake and began drinking it down.

They couldn't keep doing this.

* * *

They couldn't keep doing this.

Castle tried not to let her see how bad it was, how bad it had been. Ten minutes. Ten minutes of her lying unconscious in the grass, the starlight silver on her blanched skin.

He sat side by side with her now, the cold seeping into his bones and her body leaning hard against his. He felt it too, the strain, and he knew it wasn't good. Couldn't be good for them.

"You don't have anything left, do you?" she murmured then.

He glanced over at her, the way her hands curled in tightly over the foil packet and pressed it against her chest. The bruises under her eyes, the tangle of her hair.

"Castle, I need you to be honest," she said quietly.

"Nothing left," he said with a sigh. The MRE's were gone. "A couple more shakes."

Still miles from the truck. He just hadn't realized how slow it would be, how much he'd have to carry her. He'd expected it somewhat, but he'd thought he could get transportation closer to the ridgeline, he'd thought...

He hadn't thought, really. He hadn't thought it through. He'd only been thinking about getting to her; he'd done a piss-poor job of planning their extraction. Honestly, he'd expected, somewhere in the back of his mind, for it to not even matter. He'd expected to die out here with her.

He hadn't thought it would be possible - getting back.

But now.

He would _not_ let a stupid thing like starvation stand in the way of home. They were going home. He was damn well taking her home; he just had to think. Make a plan.

"Castle," she murmured.

"Yeah."

"You'd go faster alone," she said quietly.

Castle grabbed her elbow, felt her wince when he couldn't seem to control how hard he gripped. "No, Kate."

"You'd be faster. You can come back for me."

"No," he growled. "It's not that much farther."

"Don't be stupid, Castle. We're down to nothing. It'd take you how long to go the last seven miles?"

Damn. She'd been keeping track. Enough to know. "It's more like twelve," he murmured.

She sucked in a breath. "Twelve. Castle, I can't do twelve miles."

He bowed his head and closed his eyes. "You can."

"I can't. I'm being honest. You have to leave me here and go on-"

"Never gonna happen."

"Then we will both _die_ out here," she said harshly.

He groaned and shook his head. "No. No. I can-"

"This is the only way."

"I'm not leaving you here alone in the dark," he hissed back, unable to even look at her.

"If that's what has to be done, then that's what you have to do. I can make it alone. I made it before. What's a couple more days?"

"No."

"You promised me, Castle. You promised to get me home."

Fuck.

"This is how you keep your promise to me. Go alone. Get the truck. Come back for me."

"No," he snarled, shaking his head. "Just give me a second to think, damn it."

She fell silent and the nothing stretched out before him as endless as the steppe.

He had no plan.

Her fingers closed slowly around his wrist and her cheek came to his shoulder, her body heavy against his. "I can't do twelve miles, Rick - you still can. But for how long?"

No, no. He was not leaving her.

"I'll be fine. I know you'll be back for me." She stroked her fingers over his wrist. "Sweetheart, we'll die out here if you don't."

Twelve miles.

He sucked in a terrible breath, his whole body aching, and opened his eyes to her.

And then he heard the click of the weapon, saw the man standing just past her shoulder, pointing a rifle at them.

Fuck.

* * *

She froze.

Castle's face was a wash of horror and she felt, now, _too late_, the presence standing behind her.

"Stand up," the man shouted. "Stand up. Get moving."

"No," she whispered to Castle. "No."

His eyes jerked back to hers, grief and despair spiraling in the depths and she set her jaw and glared back at him.

"No," she hissed. "My gun. Right here. Get it."

"_Kate_," he rasped back.

"Get _moving_," the Russian yelled. Army, had to be, and if Castle didn't fucking go for her gun, the soldier would do something final, eliminate their options.

Castle was just staring at her and so she did it herself. She inched her hand to the holster on her thigh and worked her fingers under the strap. She could feel the cold sweat start at her back, her neck, and then Castle snapped to it.

"We've run out of stores," he called back in Russian. "We're weak. I don't think she can stand."

"Get moving, get moving. I will _shoot_ her."

"You wouldn't do that. Because you're looking for your plutonium and we know where it is. You shoot her; no fucking way I tell you where we put it."

She almost had it, almost. _Just keep talking, Castle._

"Stand up, stand up," the soldier was shouting. He sounded too calm, too steady. She wondered how many were in his party, how many were behind him coming through the grass.

"I'm trying to tell you - she can't stand. She just collapsed. Give us a minute."

The Russian yelled again and Castle pushed his fingers at the holster, ripped it open for her. She got her hand on the weapon and made to stand, using her weakness as a cover for her movement. Castle gripped her by an elbow and her shoulder, helped her rise.

"Now," he whispered.

He yanked on her shoulder and she spun around, firing blindly as she went.

Three shots, a rattle of rifle fire back their direction, but she'd gotten the Russian in the knee and he was screaming, screaming and falling, and oh God-

Here came the rest of them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Close Encounters 10**

* * *

_Russians._

"Castle-"

"Cover me," he yelled and charged forward.

The three guys coming through the grass startled backwards when they saw him; one drew his gun and Castle heard Kate discharge her weapon behind him even as he fired as well.

Two went down without a problem, and the darkness managed to hide the third, but beyond him came two more, and these with AK-47s.

_Fuck_.

"Take cover," he yelled to her and ducked, still running at a crouch. Best defense was a damn crazy offense, and even as he approached the third man, Castle raised to fire and found his target.

The Russian went down but the two others were aiming, fingers already at the trigger. Castle charged forward with a shout and clotheslined them both as he went, dragging the men to the ground with the force of his momentum.

He was too close to fire, the gun trapped between himself and the second guy, and now the first man rolled and landed a punch square on Castle's back.

He groaned and twisted away, tangled in the AK-47's strap slung across the second man's shoulder. He reached for his knife but the first soldier was on him, knocking him back down into the unconscious man in the grass.

Castle grunted when the blow snagged his temple, felt the dizziness pitch him off the earth. He raised a sharp knee and his attacker gurgled, renewed his assault with a right into Castle's ribs. He wheezed but slammed the heel of his hand into the soldier's chin, snapping his head back hard.

The guy slumped as Castle heard another burst of gunfire, and his adrenaline spiked in his blood as he pushed off the unconscious man. He tangled again in the other guy, got to his knees in time to see Kate rising up in the grass, firing and intent, four soldiers coming for her.

Castle reached down and snagged the strap of the AK-47, jerked it up and fired.

Two men collapsed and one stopped in his tracks, turning aside to Castle. He fired again and saw Kate in the periphery of his vision - and she was drawing her knife.

_Shit_, no. She'd never survive a knife fight. Never.

The guy coming for him got a round in the gut and then Castle was launching himself at the last one.

But just as he collided with the man's back, he saw out of the corner of his eye that two more soldiers were coming through the grass.

And two more behind them.

* * *

She scrambled back even as the two men rolled towards her a in nasty fight, Castle lifting up and slamming his fist into the guy's face.

But there were four soldiers headed for them and they were firing and if she didn't fucking get her shit together, they were going to kill Castle.

She slapped her hand around the butt of her weapon and framed the shot, supported her firing arm, but her hands were still shaking, trembling so much that she couldn't be sure she wouldn't shoot Castle.

Shit. She couldn't get a clear shot and usually she was dead on, so good, and they were firing now and the dirt at her feet exploded in a hail of bullets and Kate scuttled to the side and aimed again.

And still Castle and the man wrestling in the grass before her were weaving in and out of her line of sight.

She had to shoot.

She had to shoot.

She fired.

Castle went down, she cried out, but beyond him a soldier stumbled and went down as well, and she realized Castle had only taken a nasty left hook to the face.

Only a punch. God, please, just-

She fired again, chanting to herself to get it right, _get it right_, get it right, and the second soldier cried out and dropped like a stone. It was dark, it was too dark, and their gunfire was barely missing them, but she had a feeling they were hesitant to shoot their own comrade still rolling in the grass with Castle.

She was just as reluctant, but she couldn't afford to be. She couldn't.

Kate aimed again and measured her breaths and prayed Castle wasn't in her way.

And then she fired.

* * *

Castle jerked when the bullet found its mark, felt the blood gush hotly from the wound.

He stared at the man over him and watched the lights go out.

And then the soldier fell hard over him and Castle threw him off and scrambled to his feet, fired at the last soldier hiding behind a rock. The man screamed as the bullet tore across his throat and Castle twisted towards Kate, ready to _go_, but they were alone in a battlefield of dead and wounded, Kate swaying like she was going to drop.

"Oh, God," she rasped, staring at the dead man he'd been fighting with.

He stumbled as he reached for her, took the gun from her hand, and then she was slumping against him with a shaky breath.

"I wasn't aiming for him," she whispered.

Kate had shot the man. Kate had done it.

"You aiming for me?" he joked, but her face blanched and she moaned, burying her eyes against his neck.

"Sorry, sorry," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her. "Too soon. I know. I'm sorry, Kate, but we've got to go. There could be more."

"That was all of them," she said, shaking her head. "I could see them coming through the grass. There's a humvee or something parked just past-"

"What?" he growled, jerking away from her and turning around.

"I still have the night vision goggles," she said at his back. "Want them?"

"Yes." He turned and helped her untangle them from around her neck, and then he mashed the goggles to his face, scanning the horizon.

Soldiers littered the steppe, but she was right. They'd been a scouting party and their vehicle was _right there_.

"Holy shit," he muttered. "We're saved."

She was gripping his waist with a hand and he felt her list hard into his back; he reached for her, drew her into his side as he lowered the goggles.

"Stay here and I'll hotwire the beast, come pick you up in style, sweetheart."

She nodded against him and he carefully lowered her back to the ground. She was still trembling, but he'd be fast.

"Turn on the flashlight," he said, moving away to snatch their pack off the ground. He rooted around in it and dug out the torch, flicked it on and started to hand it to her. In the blue light he could see how bad she looked, how close to passing out again.

How close to losing it.

"Kate. You okay?"

She shook her head but took the flashlight, clutching the grip. "Go, Castle. Sooner you leave, sooner you come back."

"Kate." He sank down on his haunches and reached out a hand to her, saw the bruised and broken skin of his knuckles in the blue light and paused.

She averted her eyes, staring out across the grass.

"Kate, tell me."

"It's fine. I just - I can hear them," she muttered. "I can hear them dying."

And then he realized that the night was filled with sound: the moans and rattling last breaths, the high whines of young kids calling for their mothers or cursing as the light died.

All around them, men were dying.

* * *

Kate pressed her hands into the grass, felt the chill of the dew in the darkness. The blue light illuminated the foot of the man she'd shot - accidentally, aiming past him for another, nearly Castle, oh God, she'd nearly shot Castle.

She drew her knees up to her chest and moved the light, tried not to see, tried not to think; she had to push past it, had to survive this like she'd survived the last thirteen days.

The air touched cool fingers along her cheeks, dried the tears she didn't realize she'd been crying. Had cried. Kate swiped at her eyes and took in another breath.

She had to grind her teeth against the animal sounds of the men, close her eyes to it even though she couldn't close her ears.

She'd do something, anything, if she thought she had the strength. If she thought it wouldn't end badly for her - approaching the dying - but she was likely to get a knife to the gut or a finger on a trigger.

She pressed her forehead to her bent knees and hunched down into the cove of her own body, trying not to hear, trying not to record every sound, every moan, every gurgle of blood.

God.

And then she heard the engine roaring through the darkness and relief trickled like ice water down her spine. She unfurled from her narrow station in the grass, got to her knees with the blue light spilling like a runway for him.

The military jeep was dark as it pulled up, the lights cut out and the engine purring. She put her hand to the ground, the grass damp and hard as she pushed herself upright.

Castle opened the door and jumped out of the jeep; he came to her, his hands reaching out for her, catching her against his chest.

"Guess what?"

"What?" she murmured back, clutching his elbow and shifting slowly. Something ached - badly - deeply - in her hip. She hadn't felt it until now.

"Couple packs in the backseat."

She gave him a fleeting smile, felt the way the earth seemed to drag at her body. "Good."

"Means food, Kate." He was grinning at her, so relieved that it actually made her feel better to see it.

"Always taking me to the nicest places," she said back softly.

He chuckled and leaned in, suddenly swept her off her feet.

"Castle," she laughed. But, shit, her hip ached, throbbed with it.

"Least I can do," he said back in the darkness. She clutched the flashlight and felt the way his gait altered to step over bodies, felt it pressing down on her.

"You okay?" he said again.

"Will be. Just - very tired."

"You can sleep while I drive, sweetheart."

She nodded against him; she couldn't even pretend she wouldn't pass out the second she got in the seat. He ducked around the side of the jeep and popped open the door, then set her inside. She gripped the edge of the seat, felt the world tilting strangely, sickeningly, but Castle had already shut the door and was moving to the driver's side.

She blinked hard and tried to stay, tried not to leave, but unconsciousness slammed over her hard and dragged her under.

* * *

When the sun began to rise over his left shoulder, Castle looked for a place to stop. Kate was still asleep beside him; she'd been out since they'd started driving. He hunched forward and tapped the glass over the gas gauge once more, wincing as the needle fluctuated.

They couldn't take this thing over the border anyway; they'd have to ditch it. But he'd hoped to make a good portion of their drive in this vehicle. The less stolen cars out there, the better. He'd already had to disable the dash camera that recorded everything for insurance purposes, and now that it was clean, he wanted to keep it for as long as possible.

His stomach was tightening in knots too. He needed to eat, which meant Kate probably should as well. They could camp out in the military jeep if he found a good place to stow away, or he could push on, keep driving until they reached the end of the line.

They'd left the grass for the road because Castle hadn't wanted to leave tracks over the steppe when the Russians came looking for their scouting party. He knew it was likely that the Army would come after them, but he hoped they had a jumpstart. A few hours at least.

Yeah. He couldn't stop. That decided it. He'd just rip open another MRE package and eat whatever dried crap they had. He needed to wake Kate as well, have her eat, just to make sure. He didn't like how unconscious her sleep was, how still.

"Beckett," he said sharply, reaching over to grip her knee. She was slumped against the seatbelt and he yanked on it a little so that her head dipped.

She groaned and he felt her body shifting against the back of his hand.

"Beckett, wake up for me."

"I'm awake," he heard, a slow drag of words out of her mouth.

"Time to eat. Can you reach behind my seat and grab the food?"

"Yeah," she said, but she was still moving slowly, barely shifting, her body that loose and liquid warmth of sleep.

"Beckett."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm awake." She roused again and turned, her fingers trailing across his forearm and then gripping tightly as she tilted.

"Kate?"

"Just. Dizzy." She kept a hold of his arm, used him for leverage as she leaned back. He could hear her struggling with it, feel the push of the pack into his seat as she dragged it forward.

"That's got all the meals in it," he said carefully. Darting his eyes to her for a quick look, he saw her swallow hard and clutch at the Army backpack, her knuckles blanched. "Kate. What's wrong?"

"Don't feel so good."

His heart thumped and he shot her another look, saw her lean back in the seat and close her eyes, her hand coming up over her mouth.

"Should I-"

"Stop the car," she rushed out. "Castle, I'm-"

He squealed to a stop in the middle of the paved highway, the back tires fishtailing a little, but he was already jumping down and running around to her side.

She was fumbling with the door; he dragged her out and she sank to her knees on the side of the road, pressed her palms flat to the tarmac. She heaved but nothing came up, her body shaking as she gagged.

Castle moved in closer but she pushed him away, shaking him off, her hand making him keep his distance. He crouched at her side but didn't try to touch her again and this time her gagging brought up the nutrition shake.

And then it was done.

Kate, on her hands and knees at the side of the road, shivering, sank back down on her haunches and buried her face against her thighs, contorted into a small, compact ball.

Castle put a hand on her back, felt her chest constrict as she breathed, and he waited with her until she felt good enough to speak.

He had no idea what that was about. She shouldn't be throwing up now; she should be nearly able to eat more solid food.

He had to get her out of here.

* * *

"Just motion sickness," she said. His hand had stroked up her spine and buried his fingers at the nape of her neck. She turned into him on the road and he brought her against his body, his arms thick with muscle and banding around her.

His chin came down on top of her head. "Motion sickness."

"I'm okay," she said, drawing a knee up and pressing her foot to the road. "We should go."

"No. We can give you a minute. Let it settle. Motion sickness?"

"I threw up a lot before," she said hesitantly. "I think my head..."

"Concussion," he said gravely, and his fingers flew straight to that spot behind her ear. She winced.

"Yeah."

"It hurt now?"

"No." A little. "My hip aches," she said instead.

"The stitches?"

She shrugged and dropped a little heavier into him, let him hold her up. Her mouth tasted bad, but her stomach wasn't threatening to twist in knots anymore. Somehow his hand heavy at her ear helped. Made things anchored.

"If you lie down in the back, will that be better?"

"I don't know," she said.

"Do you want to try it?"

"Try anything at this point." She struggled against him to rise, and this time he loosened his grip and helped her, both of them getting up from the road. She gripped the collar of his jacket as she stood, closed her eyes for a moment.

"Just stay right here a second," he whispered at her temple. "It's okay. We have time."

"We don't have time," she said back, but still the pulse of nausea was beating in her guts. Still she couldn't force her limbs to work, her body to move.

She'd hit a wall. Hard. And it was fighting back like a thing deranged.

"Can you...?" She trailed off and lifted her head to him, pleading.

"Yeah, I got you." He moved to hook his arm behind her knees but she stopped him.

"No. Not - can't take that. Just walk me."

"Your hip?"

She wasn't going to risk nodding her head, so she gritted her teeth and answered. "Yes."

"Okay. You're going to be fine. I'll do all the work, Kate." He was already wrapping his arm around her waist and walking her back towards the jeep. The front passenger door was open but he reached for the back, yanked on it so that the door's hinges moaned as it came.

"I can crawl in," she said. Hunching seemed better, pulling her knees into her chest was better. She got an elbow on the seat and dragged her body inside, felt Castle hovering, prodding, arranging her.

She laid on the backseat and closed her eyes.

His fingers skimmed her cheekbone. "You want some water?"

"No."

He was dragging his jacket up over her shoulders, the one she'd been wearing since he'd found her but which she'd had to discard during their walk. It smelled of him still, and she pushed her nose into the softness, opened her eyes to smile at him. Best she could.

She was done. It was done for her. She had nothing left.

His thumb pressed at her forehead as if in benediction; she felt every whorl of his fingerprint against her skin.

"Sleep if you can, sweetheart. I'll drive slow."

"No, don't go slow. Just - just get me home."

"I will. I promise."

He shut the back door and she closed her eyes again.

* * *

Castle couldn't get her to wake up. But he was afraid to stop. He was afraid she needed medical attention sooner rather than later and so he didn't stop to _try_ to wake her.

He called her name again, but still there was no movement from the backseat.

They couldn't take this jeep to the border; he needed to look for something to switch them to, something unobtrusive. Could he risk crossing in a car? He'd gone the hard way over land and cut out a section of fencing that hadn't been well-maintained but he wasn't sure he could get Kate across like that.

The day was brilliant with sunlight, and he felt exposed driving the military vehicle, but he didn't know what to do.

He wished she'd wake up just long enough to tell him what to do.

There was always the option of finding a phone and calling the damn CIA, but technically, Castle was MIA. He'd gone rogue to get back to Russia and find her, and calling now - he had no idea what he'd get. If his father answered instead of Mitchell, they were screwed.

They might already be screwed.

And how much more time would it take to secure a phone? He'd have to find a big enough border town with a fucking Radio Shack or something similar; he'd have to delay their crossing long enough to coordinate with Mitchell. And the whole time Beckett wouldn't have medical care.

But maybe a rescue helicopter near the border. Maybe. Right? That could be done.

No. It was crazy; it was insane to ask Mitchell to send a helicopter into Russia when the Army was searching for them, seeking revenge for the destruction of their underground lab.

"Kate?" he called again, flicking his eyes to the rear view mirror. Still nothing. He clamped down on the terror that swelled up in his chest and gripped the steering wheel tighter.

He was not panicking. Not now. She was depending on him. She'd sent him off in a helicopter with his father to save his life and he was damn well not going to quit on her now.

The road disappeared under his tires, miles being chewed up by the growling of the military jeep's engine. He focused on the blank horizon, the shadow of road between the grasses, and the blazing sun as it creeped overhead.

When darkness fell, he'd stop and try to wake her again.

Maybe all she needed was some rest.


	7. Chapter 7

**Close Encounters 10**

* * *

Hours. Hours without even a twitch from Kate.

Castle parked the jeep in front of a rusted sheep shed, hopped out and headed for the gate. The lock was new though and he yanked at it, but the chains held fast.

He glanced back to the still-running Jeep, debated getting back behind the wheel, but they had to hide out for a little while. A few hours at least where he could stop worrying about who might see them, who might discover them in the stolen military vehicle.

Castle studied the fence carefully, running his fingers over the rusted portions of the post, the cross bars. He felt it give and wrapped his hand around the gate, started yanking harder. When he felt the twist and grind of metal, Castle lifted a foot and pounded on it.

The cross bar popped out with a groan and the metal of the chain lock slithered off. Castle could force open the gate now, and he swung it wide so it would accommodate the jeep. He pushed into the sheep shed and checked out the interior. It smelled of feces and wet wool, but it was serviceable. Dark shadows and piles of farming equipment.

Plus the shed was directed away from the road and once they were inside, the jeep's camouflage would keep them from being seen.

Castle hustled back to the vehicle and hopped up, hauling himself into the seat with the steering wheel. He was beginning to feel his injures again, his lack of conditioning, but he couldn't stop long. He'd eat a meal, try to wake up Kate, and then he'd make a plan for the border crossing.

They were close.

* * *

He couldn't face her wakelessness and so he got out of the jeep and started poking through the stacks of old equipment. A tarp was spread over a bulky shape in the back corner and Castle took one edge and whipped it off.

A motorbike.

Fuck, yeah. A motorbike.

Castle climbed over a complicated looking wooden plow to get to the bike, smoothed the dust and grime off the seat before glancing at the engine. Well-greased despite having been parked here for a while, and the components looked to be in place. The gas tank was housed within the frame and he poked his fingers through the metal to twist off the cap.

He leaned in and sniffed, jerked his head back with a wince. Diesel. And a little stale, but the tank was full.

Yeah. This was perfect. Perfect. The body was wider than a normal motorbike and if he could just get Kate conscious...

Shit.

Okay. He'd just - give her a chance to rest for most of the night while he worked on the motorbike, got it up to speed again, and then he'd _tie_ her to him if he had to.

They couldn't get close to the border in a stolen military vehicle but an old motorbike?

No problem.

* * *

He tinkered with the bike and checked the engine block thoroughly, going section by section. Intake. Compression. Combustion. Exhaust. Like most engines made for a number of years, this one was a V-twin with two cylinders that formed its letter's namesake. The vibrations would be worse than in the sleeker four cylinders that the CIA often used, but it would work just fine.

Castle checked the chain final-drive system and made certain that everything was in place; he dragged out a can of engine grease from behind a workstation and lubed the metal chain, his fingers going black, getting grimy.

He worked until he built up a thin layer of sweat and had to take his shirt off, tossing it back towards the jeep's hood. In the cool air of the night coming in through the sheep gate, Castle went back to the motorbike, focused entirely on getting it running.

He revved the throttle and gave it some gas, held his breath.

The engine kicked over, rattled so hard that the entire frame shook, but it didn't catch. A whine sounded, a strange hitch in the normally throaty purr, and Castle stopped.

He'd just gotten the battered metal casing off the V-twin when he heard the door of the jeep creak open.

Castle spun around and saw Kate sitting up in the back, sliding her legs out and letting them hang over the edge of the seat. She was leaning her head against the doorframe and studying him.

"Hey," he rasped, lifting to his feet.

"Mm, time's it?"

"Late," he said back. "Nearly one."

"In the morning?"

"Afraid so." He lowered the borrowed tools back to the floor and came towards her slowly, watching her as she uncurled her arms and held out a hand to him. He started to touch her and then hesitated, showing her his blackened palm. "Sorry."

She slid her hand in his anyway, a soft squeezed that lifted his heart.

"Sorry too," she whispered back.

He leaned in and kissed her cheek softly, felt her fingers unfurl from his hand and stroke across the bared skin at his ribs. He shivered and dipped his forehead to hers, breathing hard even as she canted into him.

"Slept hard," she murmured.

"Yeah, love."

"Still tired."

"Can you try to eat something?" He kept his hand carefully at her shoulders, trying not to get her dirty with grease even though he wanted to bury his hand in her hair and crush her against him.

"I can try," she nodded. "You eat anything?"

"I'll eat with you," he promised. "Gotta get this stuff off my hands."

"Wash up then, sweetheart," she sighed. But she didn't move away from him; she stayed pressed against his chest, her fingers stroking up and down his sides like she didn't know what she was doing.

So he stood between her knees and eased her closer, brushing a kiss to her temple, letting her touch, letting her wake slowly, come back to him. Her warm body against his bare skin made him ache.

"What're you doing?" she said finally. "All that." Her chin dug into his shoulder as she nodded towards the motorbike.

"Found us some transportation. Less conspicuous than the army jeep."

She was quiet.

"You can do it," he murmured. "You can sit in front of me on the bike and I'll do all the work."

"Might have to tie me to it," she muttered, rolling her head on his shoulder so that her cheek was pressed to him.

"Love, I will totally do that. Tie you up? Not a problem."

She laughed softly, humming as she turned her head back to him, a kiss at the corner of his mouth in reward.

"You are so very good at it," she whispered.

* * *

The thought of another nutrition shake made her mouth sour, but he was right. She couldn't handle a meal-ready-to-eat kit, freeze-dried and preserved and engineered as it was. So she camped out in the backseat of the jeep with him, her feet in his lap and her back against the door, and she sucked down the strawberry shake.

Castle ate two of the MRE's under her watchful eyes - like a peace treaty or a hostage negotiation. Each of them compromising because of the other.

When he was done, he shoved the containers into one of the packs and pulled out a thick army coat, shook it out.

"You should wear this when we ride," he said. "It'll be cold with the wind."

She sighed softly but took the coat from him, tucked it down beside her. He frowned but stroked his hands idly down her legs, tunneling under her sweatpants to brush skin.

Ug. Not shaved. She lifted her foot and shook him loose, making a face, and he startled out a laugh, wrapping his fingers tighter around her ankle. She huffed at him and tried to kick him off, but shit - she did _not_ have the energy for that.

"Ew. Castle."

"I like it," he shrugged.

"Liar."

"Feels strange." He coasted his fingers up her shin and she squirmed, barely able to stand it. Still, the sensation curled tendrils of heat around her spine, made her restless.

She pulled her legs up and twisted in the seat to lay her head in his lap, the rush and bump of her heartbeat reminding her of how weak she still was. His hands fell to her head and shoulder, stroking, and she closed her eyes again.

"You didn't finish the shake," he said quietly.

"Wake me in an hour," she said back. "I'll finish it then."

He sighed but she pressed her fingers under his thigh and curled up, closing her eyes. After a long moment trying to settle down her breathless, mad heart, she felt Castle draw the coat up her body, layering it over her with a gentle touch.

And then she fell back asleep.

* * *

He really had tried to wake her.

But he hadn't tried that hard. He told himself she should be allowed to rest as long as possible, that she'd need to conserve her strength for the ride, but he knew that it was more because he was afraid.

Afraid that if he tried harder, she _still_ wouldn't wake.

And he didn't want to know that.

So Castle had laid her out in the backseat and softly closed the back door to muffle the sound of him working on the motorbike. He'd taken the motor apart and cleaned everything and then put it back together, and now he was screwing the last bolt on the casing.

He wiped his fingers off on the hem of his tshirt, stood up to test it out.

Castle straddled the bike and shoved his heel into the kickstart, twisting the handlebar to give it gas. Slowly. Slowly. And then the engine growled and caught, thrumming and shaking the bike under him. Motor growled like a beast but it worked.

They had transportation.

Holy shit.

He was getting them the hell out of here.

* * *

She jerked awake but he had her; he was holding on to her.

Kate grunted and released her grip on him, slowly sat up. "I feel drugged," she muttered.

"I let you sleep," he said. His face was a tight mask.

"How long?"

"It's nearly six."

She shivered as the coat dropped off her shoulders, felt the aches in her ribs and back and hip from being in one place for so long. "Are we leaving?"

"Yeah. I got the bike to work. I've put everything we need in my pack. Time to get you on."

She wanted to take a second, but she wouldn't. She was already having trouble with zoning out in the middle of his words; she didn't know what else he'd said other than _time to go._

He reached up for her, his hands strong on her waist, and he lifted her down from the jeep. Kate stumbled as she tried to right herself, clutched at his shirt as she shifted.

"I got you."

"I really hate this," she sighed out.

He let out a soft and startled laugh at her temple, drawing his arms around her. "Good to hear, Kate."

"What?" she muttered. "This drives me crazy. Being so damn _weak_."

"Yeah. Really good to hear."

She huffed at him and moved to straighten up, but she swayed again and had to dip her forehead to his shoulder, take slow breaths.

His hand came up to her neck, warm and rough, his fingers stroking at the ridges of her spine. "Let me tell you the plan. Okay? Give you a second to get your legs."

"Okay," she sighed, but she let her body list into his, gave him a bit more of her weight.

"We'll drive the motorbike over some rough terrain, right up to the border where I crossed. It's a weak spot where the fence isn't well protected. It's razor wire, but I cut out a section when I came through."

"Grassland?" she murmured, trying to keep up with all those words.

"No. There's a ridge of rock and stone and dirt. It's not a hill exactly, but pretty close. There are farming communities to the east and west, but it's a pretty barren stretch. Might run into some goats, a guy with his sheep. Biggest worries."

She nodded against his shoulder and lifted her head. "I'm good."

"Well. Debatable," he said, gave her a tight little grin. "But we've traveled more than half the way to the border."

"A hundred miles," she said automatically. The information came from the scant preview they'd had with his father back before this all started; she'd stared at the maps of the Russian steppe, memorizing the features until it had been burned into her memory.

"We've made it sixty of those," he said then, his fingers gentle at her neck. "Forty to go, though the last ten are really the most difficult."

"It feels like we've been here forever," she choked out, wrapping her arms tighter around him. She didn't think she could sit up on that motorbike, didn't think she could ride without passing out, but bigger than that, she didn't want to be here anymore.

He let out a dry laugh that sounded more strangled than amused; his fingers gripped her neck and his lips pressed hard into her cheek. "We're going to be fine. You can do this. And if you can't, I'll damn well do it for you."

She swallowed the tight, relieved _grief_ that closed up her throat, pushed it back down. She wasn't going to let it overwhelm her. She was done with this place, done with being so decimated she couldn't even stand up on her own. Her body might be weak, but not her mind. She refused to let it.

Kate lifted her head from his shoulder and took a shuffling step back, her fingers trembling as she released him.

"I can do it," she said. "Whatever it takes."

Castle stared back at her, his eyes two hard points, unrelenting.

"I can," she insisted. "Let's go."

* * *

He didn't like it, but she sat behind him on the bike.

He'd fashioned a kind of harness made out of the straps from the other Army packs in the jeep, and it held her securely and belted around his chest. It kept her upright, and it kept her on the bike, but if she passed out and her legs dropped-

But she'd said she couldn't do sitting in the front. She'd been afraid she'd get sick. He understood, and honestly the feel of her draped along his back was reassuring because he didn't have to _see_ how bad off she was. He just had her, warm and bulky in that coat, snug against him.

His pack was saddlebagged at their right, awkward for her, but she'd insisted it would help keep her legs up if she did get weak.

Bottom line was - they had to go. They were doing the best they could with what they had.

She twisted her cheek at his shoulder and her fingers gripped his jacket. "Ready," she said, her voice strong.

He kicked the bike to start it, felt the shiver and shake of the engine under him, and then gave it gas, nudging the wheel forward. The bike surged with more power than he'd expected and she rocked at his back, giving him a breathless sound and a tighter grip of her fingers.

He couldn't ease up anymore or he was afraid the engine would stall out, but he angled them out of the sheep pen and into the still, quiet morning. The sound of the engine against the pavement and the cyclical thump of a weak spot in the back wheel made a strange concert as they rode away. The sun was on their left and straggling through an overcast sky, the road ahead of them was a wash of grey, cracked and pitted. The grasses shimmered and waved as they passed, stirred up by their wake.

At his back, Kate's thighs eased up a little at his waist, her fingers grew less stiff; he felt her lift her head from his shoulder and put her face to the wind.

She'd never hear him over the roar of the earth flying under them, but he didn't try to speak. There was nothing to say.

They were going home.

* * *

After a few miles she realized that she wasn't going to be able to keep her legs up. She'd hold out for as long as she could, of course, but in the end she wouldn't have the strength.

So Kate slowly lifted one knee and inched her foot over his thigh; she felt his jerk of surprise, but he was too good to spill them out. The bike righted and she relaxed, slid her leg over his and hooked her shin behind his knee.

He was strong enough for both of them.

Kate clutched his jacket hard for balance and then worked her other leg into the same position, having to go slowly so she wouldn't tip herself over. When she had it, she realized it tilted her back pretty far, but she could still curl her body over and lean against him.

He reached back and stroked her thigh, her knee right there at his ribs, and then he lifted his hand to the bike and didn't say a word.

This would work, she thought. She could sit huddled on the back of his bike for a thousand years if it meant going home.

* * *

The motorbike chewed through the miles. Castle could ignore the weight and shift of Kate at his back now; he could focus on skirting the clustered towns and avoiding the roaming sheep-herders by taking back roads. And despite everything, she was paying attention too.

At one point, when Castle had been forced to go off-road through the steppe to detour a large farming village, she'd been the one to point out the dirt track back to the main road after he'd gotten a little turned around. He'd have found it eventually, but at least they weren't wasting time.

Her legs were still twined with his and it ached - it actually bruised his inside thighs and torqued his knees as she clung to him. But no way in hell was he letting her know that. He could relax a little with her like this; it meant she wouldn't fall off, wouldn't get her feet caught in the wheel or burned on the engine.

He was grateful.

And he really did quite like the warmth of her surrounding him; he loved the reassurance of having her so tightly against him. So of course, he felt it the moment she passed out unconscious.

But she stayed on, secured by the harness, and he tried to tell himself that she'd just fallen asleep.

Right.

It made it harder to keep the bike steady because her weight shifted at the slightest turn, but she was strapped to him pretty securely. Her legs were so wrapped around his that there was no way they'd drop either, and she'd at least tucked the fingers of one hand into his waistband. He didn't have to worry too much about flailing limbs or sudden tumbles.

It was going to be okay. It was fine.

He nudged up the bike's speed and ignored everything else. Just the road and the bike. He had to focus.

* * *

She gasped awake, flailing, and then the bike weaved dangerously, rocking to one side, and she yelled as she felt it nearly out of control. Castle cursed and righted the bike violently; she felt the pitch and whine of the engine and then they straightened out.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," she chanted into his back, felt the struggle he still had to control it after she'd jerked awake and had nearly made them crash.

She trembled with the surge of adrenaline that had dumped in her bloodstream, tried to calm the racing of her heart. She would need that energy later; she couldn't waste it now.

His hand came back and gripped her thigh for a moment, a brief but tight squeeze, and she pressed her face hard into his shoulder in relief.

After a few miles, she felt their speed decrease, and the wind stopped beating at her cheeks; the tension in his body eased. Castle made a slow turn off the road onto a dirt track that meandered through the grassland. She watched as they startled a family of goats, the animals leaping away as they made a run for the rockier sections, a line of hills that stretched to the sky.

He brought the motorbike to a stop and she lurched into his back, felt the hard line of his ribs at her hands. He put his feet to the ground to keep the bike steady, dropped the kickstand, and then he was working at the straps that still bound her to him.

"Where are we?" she said, her voice strange in the sudden quiet.

"About a hundred yards from the border where we cross."

She felt the slack in the line and her body tilted sharply, suddenly untethered. Kate threw her arms around him to keep from falling off, her legs still hooked over his knees, and he caught her, chuckling.

"I got you. Here. Slide down, sweetheart."

He half turned, his arm reaching back for her, and she eased down the side of the bike until her feet were planted. She clutched at him, fighting the lure of gravity and the fierce bruises at her knees, and Castle dismounted as well, easily, still holding on to her.

"I gotta sit down," she breathed out.

"Okay, okay," he murmured, already controlling her descent. She thumped hard on her ass but shoved her head between her knees, tried to breathe.

She heard him collecting the pack from the side of the motorbike, and then he was wheeling the bike away, presumably hiding it in the scrub brush. She finally lifted her head, feeling stronger for the moment; her thighs had stopped trembling even though her legs felt torqued out of joint.

Castle came back from the trail and stood over her. "Can you do it?"

Home was just a hundred yards away. "Hell, yeah. Help me up."

He reached down with both hands and she lifted hers to grab him; Castle hauled her to her feet and more, drew her right into his body.

She gave him a soft laugh for that but she let him have it. He cupped the back of her head and kissed her cheek, brushing his fingers along her jaw. "We're gonna make it, Kate. Right here. A hundred yards."

"I know," she nodded against him. "I've never doubted it."


	8. Chapter 8

**Close Encounters 10**

* * *

The last one hundred yards somehow seemed the worst. Longest.

She was so weak; if he wasn't certain they were within reach of freedom, he'd have felt the whole thing impossible. Daunting. She was so weak. He had a shoulder under her armpit and an arm around her waist, and her ankles kept turning like she couldn't keep them steady. He was practically dragging her.

"Piggy-back?" she murmured. "I think I'm just dragging you down."

He had the pack on his back though. Still. "Can you put this on?" he asked, stopping and shrugging it off.

She nodded, determination blooming on her face, so he helped her arms through the straps and sat them on her shoulders. She tilted backwards as the weight fell on her, but he caught her quickly, a hard grip around her wrist.

"You can carry us both?" she said.

"Of course." He could do anything if it meant getting her to that fence.

Castle kept hold of her wrist but turned his back to her, drew her arm over his shoulder as he leaned forward in a crouch. She slid her leg around his waist and he hooked his forearm under her thigh, stood up even as she gripped his hips.

When he had both arms under her legs and she was settled, balanced, at his back, Castle started forward once more. She was breathing rapidly at his ear, her arm banded around his chest but already getting weaker.

"Hold on to me," he said roughly.

"Trying."

If she didn't, the weight of the pack would topple her right off. Even if he felt it before it came and he managed to reach back and grab for her, he'd get tangled in the pack and probably wouldn't be able to catch her.

Her arm trembled with fatigue against his collarbone. "Don't think about it," he said. "Focus on home."

He slogged forward as quickly as he dared, on the lookout for sheep-herders or farmers, animals or enemies. The rocks often shifted underfoot, forcing him to go slower than he liked.

"Remember-" she started suddenly, a sharp indrawn breath. "Remember the story you wrote for me?"

"Which one?"

"The baby elephant," she whispered.

His throat closed up but he nodded.

"Tell me more, Castle. Distract me."

He didn't know if he could, if he had it in him. Her fingers quivered against his chest, right at his heart, and he felt the exhaustion shimmer through her body.

"The baby elephant named James," he said.

"Yes."

"He was lost," he blurted out. He had to clear his throat before he continued. "He was lost, and his parents couldn't find him. They didn't know if they'd ever see him again."

"But-?" she insisted, her arms tightening around him.

"But his parents searched long and hard, criss-crossing the grassland, sometimes going without food or water when it was days between watering holes."

"And."

"And then they found him. He'd been lost, but they found him."

She squeezed her hand into a fist at his heart, her chin digging hard into his scapula, and then she gasped. He saw it too. The rise of the fence, razor wired, as it protected the border.

"They found him," she whispered. "They never gave up."

"Never."

* * *

Why was it so hard to breathe, to stay? Everything was going in and out; she didn't know what she might have left. And suddenly it occurred to her that getting through the fence didn't end this; getting into Kazakhstan didn't mean automatic safety and home. It was only that the bulk of the work was done.

They still had to make it through the whole damn country to get to an airport or a military outpost or _something_ before she could even stop.

It was impossible. Everything.

She leaned harder into the fence even as Castle cut the hole wider, working the metal back and forth with his bare hands. They were bleeding; he was going too fast, but she felt the urgency.

"Kate."

She looked at him.

"You hanging in there?"

"I'm here," she muttered back. He reached out and gripped her knee but she was okay. For now.

"Almost through," he said quickly and went back to the fence. She turned her head and watched the roll of green-brown grass through the wire, the hills beyond, the mountains purple-blue past that. Deep and forever and so far away.

"Kate. Kate, I got it."

She jerked her head back to him and he was grinning so widely, so relieved, that it trickled down into her as well. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Come on, sweetheart. Kazakhstan awaits."

She gave him a little laugh and held out her hand to him. Castle leaned in and grasped her around the wrist, tugged her upright. She stumbled into him, one of her feet asleep, but she caught her balance and clutched his shirt, her other hand twisting into his.

He kissed her knuckles and she unfurled her fingers against his jaw, his scruff so thick now that it covered his cheeks and chin. She leaned in and let her own cheek scratch against his, shivered at the intensity of the feeling.

"Let's go, super spy," she murmured.

He reached past her and drew the chain link even farther to one side, muscling his back against it and gesturing for her to go through. She clutched at his shoulder as she moved, stumbling, the metal catching on her sleeve and scratching deep, trying to hold her back, and then she was in Kazakhstan.

She was free.

Kate trembled on the other side of the fence, her arms tight around her torso to keep from falling over, and then Castle was at her back, his hands on her hips and drawing her inevitably forward.

"I can't believe it's that easy," he murmured, his voice suspicious.

She swallowed hard as they stood in rolling grassland in the middle of nowhere and then she turned her head to look at him. "Easy? Except - Castle - what do we do _now_?"

His face went blank.

"I don't know."

* * *

Castle could fucking scream.

How had he not thought about this before?

He stared at the fence past her shoulder, the country he'd thought they had just left behind them for good.

"Okay, all right," he muttered. "I'm gonna go back for the motorbike."

She clutched his arm harder and leaned her forehead into his shoulder. "Castle."

"What else can we do?" he sighed. "We've got to keep moving."

"Moving forward. Not back."

"With _what_?" he hissed.

She flinched and he sighed, gripping her tighter to him.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. Kate, just - sit here and wait for me. I'll be back."

"_No_," she moaned. "No. Castle. Don't go back."

"It'd take me twenty minutes, sweetheart. We need transportation. We-"

The sound of thunder brought him up short, and he glanced towards the heavens but the late afternoon sky was clear; he could see the moon pale and white against the blue.

"Oh my God," she whispered. He glanced down at her but she was looking past him out over the countryside.

The thunder intensified and he turned his head to look.

"Holy shit," he muttered.

A stampede of wild stallions.

No. No, wait. Some were saddled, they all had bridles. A thick run of tame horses galloping across the steppe, led and channeled by a lone rider.

"Castle. Castle, go get me a horse."

"Fuck, yes."

* * *

She sank to the grass as she watched him run flat out down the slope towards the horses. They were going so fast, she didn't know how he could possibly intercept them.

But he was Castle. So of course, he did.

She propped her chin on her knees and wrapped her arms around her drawn up legs, shivering as the wind whipped across the steppe. She wanted to lay down and sleep, so badly, but she couldn't. Not yet.

The horse.

That was going to be a damn well miserable experience. How was Castle going to even-

Oh. Well, look at that. The guy had seen him. They were talking - shouting back and forth - and she could hear the herd slowing and turning around, and now she could see the other rider at the fore of the group, steering the horses back, the beasts mild but still active.

Castle gestured towards her and she felt the piercing gaze of the rider on her; she didn't have to pretend her weakness, play it up for the man. She really was done.

She was done. She wasn't sure how she was going to ride.

Castle pulled something out of the pack and showed it to the rider, the flash of metal made her think, for a chilling moment, that he'd drawn his weapon, but no. No, it was a foil packet - nutrient-rich milkshake.

The rider reached down and took it from Castle's hand, shrugged at him as he inspected it, then gave it back. Castle went back for more, and this time she had no idea what it was in his hand that he gave up.

This time the rider took it and then called out to the other cowboy. The man wheeled around and grabbed for the bridle of a horse that - even at this distance - looked massive.

The other rider brought the stallion close and Castle wrapped his hand in the mane and mounted the beast's back.

And then he was coming for her, galloping hard up the slope.

Holy shit.

They were really going to do this.

* * *

She looked at him like he was crazy.

"Your idea, sweetheart." He leaned down for her, his hand out, and she slowly lifted to her feet and reached for him.

Castle swung her up, his knees gripping the horse hard, and caught his other arm around her waist, dragging her in front of him. The stallion shivered and side-stepped, evidently not as steady in temperament as those at Stone Farm, and Castle had to clutch her harder to keep her from slipping back down.

Kate lifted a knee and got it over the horse's neck, and that helped; he could get her all the rest of the way now. She didn't seem to be able to move though, and he had to arrange her thighs on either side of the horse's back, bring her into his chest.

She let out a noise that seemed totally involuntary, and he wrapped his arm around her waist to keep her upright. She had to be so far past exhausted; he honestly didn't know how she'd managed this long. She hadn't eaten, hadn't slept in a real bed, hadn't even gotten that much in the way of medical care.

Force of will alone. Her own or his, or both.

"Kate," he called.

"Can't keep my eyes open," she mumbled.

"You can sleep," he murmured, stroking his fingers over her hipbone, entirely too prominent. She was resting hard against him, all bones and skin, no meat on her at all, and it was so clear now, so harshly evident how little she had left.

"We safe with them?" she said, rousing a little, her body turning into his, her hand clutching at his shirt.

"Safe for now," he assured her. With what he'd paid for this horse, yeah. They fucking better be. "I got you, Kate. You sleep."

"Not sure I'll wake," she murmured, but her lashes were dropping, her body going slack.

"You'll wake. I'll get you home and you'll be fine. You're gonna be just fine," he choked out.

But she was already asleep. Unconscious. Time to be fucking honest. She was passing out, not enough nutrients, not enough rest, her body on the last, waning edge of survival.

He kept his arm banded tight around her and looked up at the rider - Sanjar, he'd called himself - and the man nodded at him, squeezed his knees, and the horse turned around.

Castle nudged his own to follow, hoped he could control the massive thing.

Had to. He had to.

He didn't think Kate would make it if he didn't.

* * *

When the herd stopped at the edge of the ranch's property, Castle hesitated, held back the beast that shivered to keep going. He didn't know; he had no idea.

She'd had a restless sleep against him, waking but not present, pulled out of a deep unconsciousness by the sudden surge of the horse or the rough turn towards a different trail. She shouldn't have been able to sleep through a ride like they'd had at all.

Sanjar and Max - the two riders who were mustering their herd across the grass and back to home - shouted to him, gesturing for him to follow.

He shouldn't stop. He should just keep going, take the horse; that had been the exchange. His CIA-issue cover passport for the beast, but with Kate like this, he just didn't think it was a good idea.

They had ridden all day and the two guys had agreed to ride through the night, pushing their herd towards the ranch at a faster pace than they'd intended - all because he'd needed to get her somewhere safe.

They'd shared a kind of beef jerky with him, but that had been all he'd eaten in the last twelve hours. Water and jerky, and Kate had been too out of it to try anything at all.

Castle couldn't hesitate any longer. They needed help _now_, not in another few days. From the ranch, he could use their phone and call in to the US Consulate in Almaty, get in touch with his contact there.

He set his jaw and squeezed his knees around the beast, felt the horse lunge forward in eagerness to join his brothers.

Violent extremism in Kazakhstan did exist - it was a concern - but out here, along the border, with a family of horse ranchers, he'd just have to take his chances.

Their chances.

It was her life he was taking chances with.

But if he didn't, he had no certainty that she'd last long enough for him to reach civilization. As it was, he didn't know if he could wake her to eat once they got inside that ranch house.

* * *

Castle had to lower her down to Sanjar; the man looked more like a boy when he was off the horse. The kid gripped Kate tightly, like it was his own life on the line, and he flashed Castle a nodding smile. When Castle dismounted and was back on the ground, he took Kate back from Sanjar.

She was so light; she was almost nothing. It wasn't right.

Sanjar gestured for him to follow, leading the way through the corral towards the gate. Castle adjusted his grip on Kate and strode purposefully, kept his face stoic because these were just a couple of brothers who had no idea, had been dazzled by his appearance at the border and had wanted to be part of something faintly illicit.

He didn't speak Kazakh, but Sanjar knew enough Russian for them to establish a common understanding. The kid was holding open a wide, wooden door into his home, his face half smiling, half serious.

The brothers had no idea what was going on, but they liked the adventure.

"A bed?" Castle said as he entered, scouting the place. It was a large kitchen, a mix of poverty and modern conveniences, a gas stove and an industrial microwave, a wash tub for the laundry standing next to a stove top range.

Sanjar came past him and made for a hallway. "Down here. You can put her. Safe. Be safe."

Castle glanced over his shoulder to find Max - he was older, and quieter, and the one to watch out for. His face was set, closed off, and he was settling down at the kitchen table. Castle didn't know if the two brothers had parents anywhere near, or if they were alone out here, but he'd interrogate Sanjar the moment he got Kate settled.

He followed the kid down the hallway and into a back room; it smelled strongly of horse and sweat, but when Sanjar pulled the blanket over the bed, it looked clean enough.

"This your bed, Sanjar?"

"Yes. Yes, mine." He beamed at Castle.

"Thank you," he sighed, lowering Kate to the mattress. He arranged her limbs against the thin sheet, drew the blanket back up over her. Her hair was snarled again, her skin so sallow it made his breath catch.

"You want - I should get?"

Castle turned and saw Sanjar hovering nearby, eager and nodding at him in encouragement. The boy looked so thrilled to help, to be part of the intrigue.

"I need a phone," he said. "You have a phone?"

"Yes. Yes, phone but - ahh - soup?"

"Dinner?" he asked, eyebrows raising. "Or you really do mean soup."

"Soup is dinner, yes? Soup."

"If you have soup, holy shit, Sanjar, that would be awesome." He lifted to his feet and shook Sanjar's hand, his grip too tight he knew, but the relief wouldn't let go of him. "And a phone. Sanjar. Soup and a phone."

"Soup and a phone is - awesome. Awesome," Sanjar said, a grin spreading across his face. "Yes. I should get."

His Russian was stilted, he was just an overeager kid, but Castle would take it. Sanjar left them in the room and hustled back towards the kitchen.

Castle sank back down on the bed, drew his weapon out of the holster and kept it close, his eyes trained on the door. He didn't know who would be coming back through - Max and his suspicion, or Sanjar and help.

This could all be a big fucking ambush, but he just didn't know what he could have done differently.


	9. Chapter 9

**Close Encounters 10**

* * *

Sanjar came back with a phone - a cell phone that the family used for emergencies, he said, stored in the kitchen drawer.

But the battery was dead. "Sanjar," Castle sighed, holding it up. "Power. It needs power. Electricity. Batteries."

"Oh," Sanjar said bleakly. He was holding an open container of something thick and smelling of meat, and Castle couldn't help taking it from the kid.

"Sanjar," he muttered, staring at it.

"Awesome?"

Castle laughed and heard the way his voice broke, shook his head. "Yeah, kid. Awesome. Look, I need power for the phone. It's dead."

"Oh, oh, yes. Wait. I should get." Sanjar yanked it back, but Castle didn't like having it out of his hands. Instead he followed Sanjar back to the kitchen and watched as he held a heated conversation with his brother.

Castle kept glancing back towards the hallway left open at his back, but he still had the gun. Max didn't seem to love it, and the house _felt_ empty other than the brothers, so Castle finally holstered it and held up both hands.

"I just need a working phone. Please."

Sanjar said something that sounded crude and began working the rangetop back and forth out of the wall. Castle lifted an eyebrow, but Max grunted something rude back and moved to help him. After a few minutes, they had jury-rigged something from the electric stove top into the phone and it was charging. It looked like they did this frequently.

Castle waited only long enough for it to power up, and then he made the call.

The language was Kazakh, but he spoke in English, and he knew he was remembering passcodes from thirteen days ago, but there was nothing for it. "This is Straight Arrow reporting in. I have the Bow."

It was the last thing he remembered from their debrief in Rome before this whole operation had started. Stolen nuclear weapons in the hands of non-government agencies was termed Empty Quiver; a Broken Arrow event was an accident with nuclear materials that wasn't a risk for nuclear war. At the time, they hadn't known what they were dealing with, so they'd taken on code names similar.

Now they knew.

The line clicked and transferred after a long pause, and then he heard a voice he recognized.

"Fuck, Castle. I never thought I'd hear from you again."

It was Mitchell. Thank God.

* * *

Kate felt heat against her, a presence.

She woke slowly to darkness and a heavy weight, had to make an effort to drag her breath in through her lungs. She could barely keep her eyes open. She didn't know where she was, where this was - a closed up darkness, a quiet darkness. No animals, no water through rock. Inside. And warm.

Hard to find her thoughts, hard to make it all make sense.

Her finger twitched when she tried to move, to see, and a ripple of agony went off through her body. Aches she'd ignored and pain she'd pretended hadn't existed. She grunted and sucked in a deeper breath, turned her head to look.

It was Castle, asleep at her side.

If he was asleep, must be okay. Everything must be fine.

Kate closed her eyes but the blackness behind her eyelids made her dizzy. She jerked awake again and saw him there, saw him huddled on his side and turned into her, the lines on his face so stark in the shadows. Moonlight spilled in around him, silvered his hair and glanced off his skin. She moved slowly, aching still, until she was curled in closer, her body in the cove of his.

And it took everything right out of her. Her lids slammed shut and exhaustion snatched her, deep and down, dark and down and away.

* * *

Castle found himself curled in the narrow bed with Kate in his arms, her breath ghosting his neck. He blinked hard and lifted his head; he didn't know when he'd fallen asleep.

He hadn't meant to sleep at all.

Castle checked the clock whose hands glowed beside the bed.

A team would be here in two hours, Mitchell at the head. The man had tasked satellites looking for Castle, searching in vain when he hadn't shown up in four days' time. But he'd found nothing, and he said he hadn't wanted to risk an incursion. Not with the Russian military still all over the place.

Mitchell. He'd said that _Carrie_ had called him, worried. Kate was supposed to have been back in New York a week ago. Mitchell had felt guilty as hell after he got that phone call and had started camping out in the US Consulate, hoping to hear news of a foreigner. Guess Mitchell hadn't thought Castle would find her.

Well, it was two foreigners. They were going home.

He untangled himself from Kate and sat up, drawing the blanket over her shoulder, cupping the side of her face because he just couldn't go. Couldn't leave her. He hadn't managed to wake her up for the soup - it was kind of a goulash and filled with vegetables he had no name for. She probably wouldn't have been able to take it anyway.

He leaned back against the headboard to keep himself awake, and he stroked his fingers down the side of her face, over and over, feeling her breath now on his thigh.

"Kate," he murmured, because he couldn't help himself. Because he needed that reassurance.

But it didn't come. She didn't stir, didn't open her eyes, didn't sigh. He laid his hand at her ear and closed his eyes, swallowed it down.

Two more hours. She'd make it two hours.

* * *

He startled awake at a shout, his heart racing frantically.

Sanjar came into the bedroom, waving both hands, yelling at him in Kazakh and completely unintelligible.

Castle yelled back, jerking out of bed and unholstering his weapon, not sure where to aim or if he should. But Sanjar was taking him by the arm and hustling him out of the room, clearly scared, dragging him towards a front window.

Well, fuck. No wonder.

Max had a shotgun and was crouched low before the picture window, peering out over the front yard and the calvary that had just shown up.

It was a covert helicopter, practically soundless. A team of four US Marines jumped out and moved quickly to secure the perimeter.

Castle laughed, a garbled thing, but he had to - seeing the way Max was ready to defend them, the way Sanjar had run to get him. Like he'd be able to hold off an army if it really had been their enemies.

Max was glaring at him; Sanjar clearly thought he was insane.

"No, no. Guys, this is my ride. Thanks for the horse, but-" He nodded towards the bird and grinned. "We'll leave that way."

Max stood slowly, nostrils still flaring, and Castle saw a Marine draw his weapon.

"Whoa, whoa. Max. Drop it." Castle held up both hands and moved himself between the older boy and the window. He flashed his open palms and the Marine stood down, but kept his weapon at the ready.

And then Castle saw Sanjar opening the door.

"Fuck. No. _No-"_

But it was too late. The Marines rushed inside, battering Sanjar with the butt of a rifle as they stormed into the living room. The kid dropped like a stone. Shit. Shit, at least they hadn't fired.

Castle moved to intercept the team, hands still up, effectively blocking Max from making a stupid lunge for his brother.

"Guys, guys, they're friendlies," he called out. "Friendlies. Stop. Where the fuck is Mitchell?"

The Marine in front nodded back towards the helicopter. "Here he comes."

Castle turned his head and saw his friend getting out of the bird, jumping down and coming in at a jog. When he cleared the doorway and saw the boy unconscious at his feet, he flinched.

He lifted his head and winced when he saw Castle. "Shit. Sorry, Castle. Your dad got wind of my rescue. These are his."

The Marines. Probably weren't really Marines either. Some covert group he wasn't supposed to know even existed. He'd thought they were a little too trigger happy, a little too violent.

"Where's Beckett?" Mitchell asked. "I brought an EMT."

"Thank God. She's back here." He gestured to Sanjar. "But get him first, will ya? Or else his brother is gonna do something stupid."

The fourth man in the fake US Marine squad - the one not quite in formation - stepped back and shucked off his pack, leaned down over Sanjar.

* * *

She woke alone.

Quiet and dark. An insistent warmth that lacked the weight she needed.

No Castle.

She turned her head and fought to keep her eyes open, but the chair at her bedside was empty as well.

A hospital.

She was in a hospital.

But he was nowhere to be found.

* * *

Kate gasped and jerked forward, the feel of hot breath at her neck and the smell of wolf in her nose, and something held her down, held her back, an animal grunt that made her thrash harder.

"_Kate_-"

She stilled, everything stumbling to a halt, the world righting again.

She opened her eyes and saw light, the yellow and blue light, the mix of sun and florescent in a dance across her vision.

And Castle.

"Hey, love. Hey, you're in a hospital," he was murmuring, stroking the hair back from her face, fingers cool to the touch. Didn't feel right. He was always so warm.

"Where were you?" she rasped out, stupid, not thinking, and he flinched, halfway withdrew, but instead only settled her back down in the bed.

"Had to take care of some things. Black. I'm here now."

She shivered and shut her eyes, but there was darkness there, and she quickly opened them again, sucked in a breath. She let her gaze roam over Castle, soaking him in greedily, taking the measure of him after all of that.

He was doing the same. He couldn't seem to stop petting her, touching her, and if she weren't so hollow feeling, she'd be annoyed.

But he was keeping her from disappearing entirely into the black.

"Are you okay?" they asked in stereo.

Castle chuckled first, shifted his body so that she saw the whole of him. He wasn't okay; he had an IV in his left arm, the pole just past him.

"What happened?" she whispered, tried to move to touch him back but she hadn't the strength. "Castle."

"Just some antibiotics. Saline. I'm okay - they're just being careful."

"Promise?" she choked out.

"Promise, Kate. No more hiding."

She nodded, tears springing into her eyes that she couldn't control, and he leaned in over her, wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and buried his face in her neck. He sounded strung out as well, at the end of his rope and ready to break, and she dragged her hand up to clutch at his shirt.

"Need you," she got out, blinking fast because it probably wasn't a good idea to have water leaving her body. "Need you in here with me. Crawl in."

"Kate," he grunted. "Love-"

"Please."

He let out a breath that hit her like a force, made her close her eyes despite the way the darkness welled up and tried to possess her.

"Okay, okay," he whispered. "I gotta move you."

"Won't break." She hoped.

He gave a strangled laugh and slid his forearms under her; she felt his IV at her hip and realized it might be a bad idea to have him doing this. But it was already too late; she felt the lightning of pain flicker down through her bones, her hip an electrical storm, and then he was crawling in with her.

"How's the pain?" he murmured, his right arm drawing under her to pull her closer.

"It's there," she said honestly. Because that's what they did now. What the hell did it matter anyway? She was in a hospital. "Hurts. Hurts more without you."

"I know," he sighed. "God, how I know."

She closed her eyes again, just for a moment, and then shifted slowly, inch by inch, until she was lying on her unmarred hip, her knee over his thighs and his IV'd hand curled around the back of her leg.

"I'm done after this," he said quietly. "We're done. No more."

"Castle," she sighed. "Too tired to fight you."

"That's exactly why," he said grimly.

"Hold off on life-changing decisions until I can at least stay conscious..."

And despite the urgency of everything, of Black and the CIA and his own medical condition, she was falling off the edge and into oblivion.

* * *

He didn't want to leave her. He wouldn't.

Castle didn't give a fuck what Black was doing to his team, how he was reorganizing the Eastern European section all under his dominion, how the CIA was falling into Black's hands once more. He was done. He was out.

Black could have it. Fuck them all. Castle wanted her. He wanted Kate and she was alive and they were finally safe and the moment she was stable enough to travel, they were going _home_.

They were going home to stay.

The door clicked and Castle jerked to his back, setting his jaw against the intruder, but it was just her doctor.

His doctor too. The same guy who'd had care of him before, the man with the wire-rimmed glasses and the kind of eyes of Jim Beckett. The hospital base in Turkey.

"Mr Smith," he said gravely, a nod of his head.

"Dr Serkan," he said, easing upright, being careful not to jostle Kate too badly. "Sir."

"Mr Smith, this is the wife?" Dr Serkan was speaking English this time, not Turkish, which was strange. Or maybe Serkan had spoken to him before in English, but Castle's concussed brain had scrambled everything. "The wife, Kate. You have found her."

Castle gave a nod of his head, but the doctor smiled warmly, spreading his hands wide.

"That is good. Eases my heart. I worried."

Castle sucked in a breath, not sure why, but it just - shit, it was getting to him. More than the last two weeks of agony, this. This man and his _worry. _Because even if he couldn't help Castle at all, he'd heard him. He'd heard and he'd worried.

"Thank you," Castle rasped. "She's getting better."

"Better. But. All her levels are not in homeostasis. We're working to stabilize hormones, white count, electrolytes, all of it. Needs time."

"When do you think I can have her transferred stateside?"

Dr Serkan hesitated, rubbed his thumb and finger over the beard at his jaw. "I don't know. She's strong. You told me how you found her - brink of starvation. Dehydration. Body shutting down. Takes time to get everything functioning together again."

The man's words were so purposeful, so focused. Like he'd memorized this speech to give.

But Castle just nodded, a hand bracing himself upright in the bed. "I understand. It's not to be rushed. We'll take as much time as she needs."

"Very good," Dr Serkan sighed out. "Yes. I had hoped you would take more care of her than you did of yourself."

Castle grimaced, lips twisting into a smile as Dr Serkan shrugged like it was nothing.

"Sorry, Doc."

"I see a lot," the man said, shaking his head. "Which is why I am glad you understand this time. How it requires rest. She needs long uninterrupted sleep."

Castle shifted in the bed, glanced back down to his wife. Her skin was still waxy, bruised under her eyes. Her bones too prominent. Sleep looked entirely too similar to death, and he'd liked it better when she was up against him - where he could feel every slow thump of her heart, every warm stir of her breath.

Long, uninterrupted sleep.

"Should I leave-?" he asked, already trying to untangle his legs from hers.

"No, no. Not that." Dr Serkan laid a hand over Castle's ankle as if to stop him, shaking his head, but he was actually _tugging_ Castle out of the bed. And then his eyes cut back towards the door, purposefully, his face intent.

Oh.

Oh, _shit._

His father.

Last time his father had transferred Castle to Germany faster than he could blink. _That's_ what Dr Serkan was afraid would happen here.

"Is he out there?" he said quietly.

Serkan gave a slow nod. Castle got the impression he'd been threatened a time or two by Black, wasn't keen on a repeat.

"I'll take care of it," he said. "I promise."

The doctor seemed relieved as his gaze turned to Kate, a lingering touch. "She's lucky. In many ways."

Castle had the distinct feeling Dr Serkan was talking about _him._


	10. Chapter 10

**Close Encounters 10**

* * *

When Serkan had left, Castle had waited a moment, not wanting to move away from his wife. But if Black was out there putting pressure on the hospital staff to transfer Kate God knew where, Castle had to get out there and fight him.

So he'd made one phone call, because it was better to be prepared when confronting the enemy. More prepared than Castle had been when he'd gone out to get her on the damn Russian steppe.

Call made, he untangled his legs from hers and eased off the bed, unable to help the kiss he brushed over her forehead and the promise he breathed into her ear.

Castle stood up and took his damn IV pole with him; he'd promised himself he'd let the medical team do what they wanted to him this time. He knew Beckett needed everyone here on her side and he'd go docile as a lamb if it meant winning over the staff for her.

It had worked, right? Dr Serkan had let him know what was going on out here.

Castle opened up the door and pushed through, found himself face to face with his father.

"Richard. Why are you out of bed?"

"Why are you skulking around my wife's door?"

That flat, pressed-lips sign of displeasure rippled across Black's face, but of course, it was marred by the ruined half, the lips not quite able to straighten.

"I suggest you leave," Castle said slowly. "You turn around and you go back to your retirement, Mr Black, and you don't come back. I don't care _what_ the Director begs of you. You stay gone this time."

Black narrowed his eyes. "Are you suggesting we still have a deal?"

A deal. _The_ deal. In which Castle stayed in the CIA with the certainty that his father wouldn't. And wouldn't be anywhere near his wife.

"You broke that deal," Castle gritted out. "You broke it. And these are the consequences."

"What consequences? My son dragging himself - half-broken and delirious - towards a plane on a base in Germany? My son going AWOL and risking a fucking international incident to save the life of _one_ man on his team?"

"Yes," Castle said simply. "Yes."

"I don't accept. You need some damn guidance, Richard. You need-"

"Not from you. Never again from you. You tried to _murder her_, you son of a bitch. I have sworn testimony to that effect as well as the gun you shot and the shell casing, the bullet which we pulled out of a certain brick wall in a certain back alley. All with your fingerprints. I have the evidence to bury you. So if you know what's good for you, you'll walk away."

"From this? No. I'm only doing what's good for you - even if you can't see it."

That was it. He was done. There were no second chances.

Castle pulled his phone out of his pocket - he'd hidden it from the nurse when she'd tried to make him change into a damn hospital gown - never gonna happen - and he called Mitchell.

Mitch answered right away. "Yo. Castle."

"Yeah, I've got Black here outside Beckett's room. I'm going to need a security team to escort him to holding."

"Richard," Black snarled.

Mitchell let out a whooshing breath. "You're really going through with this?"

"I told you. He's off the books, or so he says, but I've gotten no confirmation of legitimacy. He's tried to murder my wife at least once that I know of, and most recently left her for dead - and lied about it. So. Mitch. Security team."

"On the way. Can you hold him until then?"

Castle gestured to the night security guard whom he'd already made friends with; he'd been determined not to let a repeat happen this time. No more letting his father run roughshod over his wife.

The security guard was - of course - an MP. It was a hospital on base after all. He drew his weapon and stood the requisite five feet away.

"Sir."

Black's nostrils flared and he turned cold, dead eyes to Castle.

"No," Castle interrupted before the man could say a word. "You're done this time. You broke the deal when you went to work for the Director. Lt Fitzgerald? The restraints."

The MPs didn't carry handcuffs, but he had zipties. Castle took one from Fitz while the man kept his gun trained on Black. It took only a moment.

And then the security detail, who'd been waiting downstairs just in case, came down the hall and took custody of Castle's father. They bound his arms behind his back, tied his thighs, knees, and ankles together, and dropped a black bag over his head.

Castle could practically feel the indignation and rage emanating from under that hood.

He hadn't really believed the man would come back here, show his face to Castle after everything. When Mitchell had told him that Black heard of the rescue effort and sent his 'Marines' to do the escorting, Castle knew he had to have a plan in place. An escort of his own.

So he'd been implementing his plan when Kate had been awake and alone, that broken _Where were you?_ But it'd been worth it, because now he could relax.

Now she was safe.

If Black had only stuck to trying to take over his personal CIA kingdom, Castle would've left him to it and been done with the whole thing. He would've warned Mitchell to watch his back and he'd have curled up in bed with Kate for eternity, never lifted a finger against his father.

But he came here. To Kate's door.

No more.

The security team plus Fitz bodily carried Black towards the elevators; to his credit, he didn't thrash, didn't struggle.

Castle turned his back on the scene and went inside Kate's room once more, letting out a long, shaky breath as his shoulders slumped. He hadn't think he could ever fall asleep again, but of course, staring at Kate while she slept threatened to suck him under.

Castle crawled back in bed with her, arranging his body around hers, tangling them back together, and then he pressed his forehead to her shoulder and let himself go.

He had the time.

They had time.

* * *

She was watching the stars.

Through the window overlooking a strange confluence of architecture and landscaping, Kate could see the stars in an inky, far away night. There was something deeply reassuring about seeing those stars behind glass. Trapped.

Nothing could hurt her.

And the very fact that Kate needed the removal, the layer of civilization between her and the night, was more deeply disturbing.

She turned over in bed and put her back to it, watched Castle instead.

He was working on a laptop from her bed, the computer set out on the bedside table and his face a mask of concentration. She'd lost count of hours, but she didn't think she'd lost count of days.

Not yet.

Two days. So far.

He looked so intent. She wanted to smooth her thumb over the lines between his eyes where his concentration collected. Instead she slid her hand over and tucked her fingers under his thigh, pressing her forehead to his hip, staying close.

He stopped working immediately, a heavy palm dropping over her ear, fingers scratching lightly at her scalp. Her hair was clean; two nurses had washed it between them, a conversation held in Turkish over her head, soft and melodic and soothing. She'd fallen asleep in the chair and Castle had been called to come get her, carry her back to bed.

Last night. He'd been gone, but close enough to call out for.

She wondered what was going on. He hadn't brought up leaving the CIA again, but she'd heard it in his voice. He was decided. Settled. Nothing could move him.

Except her.

She needed to sit up for this.

Because his concentration, his furrowed lines and the rigid set of his shoulders spoke of a fury she'd only ever seen when it came to his father. And whatever Black had done - Castle had done something to counter him - and it was possible he'd burned bridges they might need later.

She struggled upright, pushing off against the mattress to sit beside him, his hand falling from her hair and his eyes glancing distractedly at her. Still, the concern rippled through him like a wave, drawing his attention straight to her.

It was going to be like this for a while, she could tell. For both of them.

But he was going to have to talk to her. They talked now; communication. She wasn't going to let this set them back.

"Castle," she rasped. Her throat was still raw, no matter how much water she drank or how long the saline had dripped through her IV. "What happened with Black?"

He set his jaw, a thick and pulsing anger. "I had him detained. Shipped him off to North Africa. Extraordinary rendition."

Her mouth dropped open. "Castle."

"What."

She stared at him. "Are you serious? Or are you - is this sarcasm? Because I can't tell with you right now, and _torture_ and interrogation are probably not things you should be doing to your own father."

His left eye was twitching, his fury so direct and sharp that she felt it in every breath like a current of electricity.

"If I _had_ ordered him tortured, why the fuck would you be taking up for him?"

"But you didn't. You're telling me you didn't. That - extraordinary rendition - that's a joke."

"Mostly. I did have him arrested and shipped out of country. To North Africa, like I said. Dumped naked from a truck near extremist-"

"_Castle_."

"Not really," he sighed. "It's more like house arrest. North Africa station - let him rule that kingdom for a while."

"I know you're angry with him, but-"

"You don't know," he said distinctly, jerking his eyes away from her. "You have no idea. What you did - what he did - I can't ever forgive."

"What I did," she repeated flatly. Because even if it had been a slip of the tongue, a mistake corrected, he'd said it because he meant it.

"What he did," Castle said back.

"What I did," she insisted. "Triaging you in the field and saving your life by sending you away with him."

His jaw worked hard again, his eyes on the screen of his laptop, but she knew she had his full and complete attention.

"I'd do it again," she said firmly. "In a heartbeat. I was fine. I made it. I-"

"You were dying. And I killed myself getting to you because you fucking sacrificed your life for _mine_. How is that ever - ever - going to be okay with me?"

"I don't need your permission," she said quietly. She wasn't angry with him; she'd be as desperately black as he was if their positions were reversed. But Castle responded with anger and Kate with bleak despair.

"You should never have done it. Never. Kate. I can't."

"Not about you. What I did was severely selfish, Castle. I did it for me. I won't watch you die in front of me. I can't live without you."

He growled and shook his head, his fists so tight that his fingers were blanched. She reached out and slid her palm over that tight control, a cool relief trickling through her spine when he flattened out his hand and let her.

Such capable hands. Skilled. Beautiful. Dangerous.

"You think I could possibly live without you?" he got out, his voice hoarse, his eyes suddenly pinning her.

Is that what she thought?

_Yes._

He had dreams and visions for what life could be now; he knew he would never go back to that old way. He could find someone else-

"You are singular," he harshed, suddenly gripping her wrists. "No one else is you, can ever be you, what you are. Your life isn't replaceable, should never be so easily discarded."

"It's not like I _wanted_ to die," she said finally. "But you were going to die first. Immediately. Within moments if you didn't have-"

"I _know_ all that," he growled out, his fingers so tight on her radius and ulna that they ground together. "I know what you did, what state I was in. I've got all the damn facts. But it doesn't make it _okay_. It will never be okay."

"You're going to have to learn to live with it," she said with a soft sigh. "You made me live through a time without you, Castle. You died to me. I know what happens to me without you."

He cursed and dropped her wrists, pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, hunched over in the hospital bed. She felt his anger more like desperation now, but she wasn't going to start making empty promises. Even if it felt like punishment to him, it wasn't. This was just how it had to be.

From his hunched position, his words came like a blow. "You gotta stop jumping in front of bullets for me, Kate. I'm not going to survive it. You'll kill me yourself."

She leaned heavily into him, trying to get past those raised arms, trying to tunnel down into that cave he'd made for himself of his own body.

"Rick," she murmured, hoping to reach him. "I can't stand by and do nothing and so lose you - and myself as well. Either you forgive me for that or you don't."

He dropped his hands and instead wrapped his arms around her, dragged her halfway into his lap, a groaning and guttural keen pressed into her neck.

And then he _cried_.

Oh, God, she'd broken him.

* * *

When he had control of it, when he thought the rage - the pointless and sickening rage - wouldn't swallow him whole again, he leaned his head back into her hospital bed and opened his eyes.

He wasn't angry with her. No, well, he _was_ - for saving him at the expense of herself. But it wasn't like she'd had much choice, wasn't like his damn father had given her any help or offered to stay behind or - or - or anything. There'd been nothing else for her to do.

But she'd been dying, she'd been attacked by a wolf and hunted by the Russian army and starving and concussed and vomiting and alone and in the dark and living in a cave for thirteen days and it just wasn't acceptable.

Because of him.

And maybe, at the end of it, Castle was so damn angry at himself. For putting her in that situation to begin with.

It didn't feel good. Or right.

He took a breath and felt her pressed against him, her silent and observant watching, her body sealed to his, her hands framing his neck like she was trying to hold him together.

"I don't like it," he said finally. Another long breath out. "Just being honest."

"I know," she said back, her voice strong but also so - humbled. "But don't they say it's the greatest love? To lay down your life..."

He stared at her as she trailed off. "But your life _is_ my life."

She pulled in close again, fingers laced at the back of his neck, thumbs skirting his jaw, her forehead pressed against his.

"And Castle, your life is my life."

"But it's not_ worth_ this, for you to be - it's not okay, not a fair trade that you're alone in a cave with wolves and _fuck_, it's not worth it."

"Shut up," she growled suddenly, gripping him harder. "Shut up because that's my _husband_ you're talking about."

He went still.

She was breathing hard, each puff of air against his own mouth like a race had been sprinted hard and flat out in their relationship, a race to understanding.

"This is always - this will always be worth it," she said quietly. Her voice was so angry, so vividly sharp and fierce. "You keep saying to me - _anything _- you'd do anything. And I'm supposed to accept that - the way you throw yourself bodily into mortal peril for me, because you love me. Well, damn it. Castle. So would I."

He closed his eyes; he felt a wreck, every board of him smashed on the rocks to be hurtled towards her shore, a drowning thing.

Her thumbs pressed behind his ears as if in warning, tightening her hold on him before she pushed her mouth to his, breathed new life into him. And when he thought he might drown in her too, she gentled and nudged her nose against his, herself a little breathless. "Anything, Rick Castle. Because I love you and you are _so_ very much worth it."

He crushed her in his embrace because the only thing he could do - the only thing that would save him - was her.

He could only cling to her.

* * *

Kate laid in the vee of his legs, her ear pressed to the slow thump of his heart, her body sprawled over his. She drifted on the susurration of the night shift, the room dark but not black, the moon and stars coming in through the window.

Castle's phone was on as well, casting a glow over her neck and cheek that she could almost feel. His other arm was slung low at her back, heavy and warm, while he caught up with emails and 'arranged' his father's North African stay.

She would fall asleep soon; she could feel it coming. A deep one. A sleep of days. That had been the pattern lately - a normal six hours and then unconscious for 48 hours. She didn't mind, though Castle looked ragged when she finally woke, and yesterday she ate a banana and it had been so good.

She could still taste it.

She was going to dream about bananas.

* * *

When she struggled awake, she was alone in the warm center of the bed, lying with her cheek mashed against the pillow.

"Hey," came his rough whisper.

She opened her eyes and saw him leaning forward in the wide visitor's armchair, elbows on his knees, hands dangling, but something like a smile coming to his face.

"Hey," she scratched back.

"It's four in the morning," he said, his voice still messy with sleep, his hair flat on one side.

"Why are you awake?"

He shrugged, his whole body in the movement.

"Can I come over there?" she asked then, the words falling out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"In the chair?"

She hesitated but finally nodded.

"If you can get out of bed."

"I can," she promised. But she realized she had no idea when four in the morning - two days, three, one? How long since the last time she'd gotten out of bed? Since the banana.

But Kate curled on her side and slid her leg out, socked toes reaching for the tile floor. Castle had dressed her in clean sweat pants, another draping t-shirt because she'd been so cold in the hospital gown; she still had those on. Smelled like banana.

"Want help?"

She touched her foot to the floor and eased down. "No. I can do it." She was weak but she wasn't a kitten; she felt her knees mushy as she finally stood, but she clutched the blanket with her fist and took the short steps towards him.

He sat back, hands up to receive her, and she sank down in the plastic-padded seat with him. Castle drew her legs up over his thighs and Kate hooked an arm around his neck, pressed close. He'd shoved a pillow behind his back and he leaned against it, his other hand at her neck and so broad, fingers slipping down the collar of her shirt.

"Dr Serkan thinks you'll be flight-ready in another few days."

She lifted her head from his shoulder, her body suddenly bright with it. "A few days?"

He nodded, fingers stroking behind her knee. "So here's the decision we have to make. Do we take the trip in stages, let you rest between legs in Germany and London and on like that, or do we push it and go all the way home - non-stop?"

"Non-stop," she said immediately.

He frowned. "I don't know that you'll-"

"I can do it. Non-stop, Castle. I just want out of here."

He studied her a long moment, his fingers tight at her knee, his hand gripping hard at her neck.

"I at a banana the other day. Come on. I can do this."

"Three days ago," he supplied, filling in her timeline for her.

"Okay, fine. Three days ago. So? I can do it. I'll just sleep my way through the flight."

Castle squeezed but she retaliated by drawing both arms around his neck, leaning in close enough to touch her lips to his jaw, to the working column of his throat. She breathed against his skin, nipped a little with her teeth.

"Don't make me beg, love," she murmured, nuzzling into him.

He growled and his embrace tightened briefly before he let her go. "Fine. A non-stop flight."

"Castle," she sighed out her relief, pressing her closed eyes against his neck, breathing him in. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. Promised I would. Finally taking you home."


	11. Chapter 11

**Close Encounters 10**

* * *

"I got everything arranged," Mitchell said quietly, his voice low in deference to Kate still asleep in the bed.

They were in the base hospital at Incirlik, Turkey - an Air Force base with about five thousand stationed here and overseen by the 39th Medical Squadron. Castle sat by the window and watched children playing in the school yard just next door. There were palm trees lining the front walk and a book swap had been set up on low tables at the south entrance. At eleven, the first graders came outside and tended a garden - mostly watering and measuring their plants' growth.

"Castle?"

He turned his head from the window. "Yes. I heard you. The flight."

"Tomorrow morning."

"We'll be there," he said in confirmation. "Thank you."

"From here you'll fly in to Athens. We have to switch you off to a passenger flight, give you entrance visas to Rome."

He nodded and raised his hand, shook Mitchell's with a tight grip. "Thank you. I've got it from Rome."

Mitchell frowned. "But I could-"

"No. I don't want it official - it can be tracked."

"Your father is already in a holding center in Tripoli."

"I won't be so arrogant as to think he'll stay there," Castle said dryly. He heard the screech and cry of a child and turned his head back to the window, saw the first graders in a tussle over something. A teacher was moving to break it up, scolding a boy with a mussed shirt and a serious scowl on his face.

"Fine," Mitchell sighed, talking at the back of Castle's head. "Do what you think best."

He heard the man leave the room and Castle sighed, not liking it but not sure what else he could do. He'd be quitting and his commands would lose all authority; his father's incarceration would be overturned in moments. He wanted himself and his wife as far from his father as he could get them.

Kate stirred in the bed and her sigh rippled across his senses, made him rise and go to her. He leaned in awkwardly over the bed and her eyes drifted slowly open.

"Morning," he whispered.

"Morning?"

"Again," he amended. Only seven hours ago, he'd held her in his lap in that chair and they'd both fallen asleep. He'd woken first and put her back in bed.

"Same day," she grinned slowly. "That's good. Better."

"Better," he agreed. "We have a flight out of here tomorrow morning. You up for it?"

"Oh, yes," she hummed, her lashes wide and curled softly against the gorgeous frame of her eyes.

He stroked the hair back from her mouth and cheek, tucked it behind her ear. He had to lean in on his elbows because he wanted to stay close. "Good. We'll fly from here to Athens and head for the airport there, switch to an international carrier that takes us into Rome."

"Mm, good idea. Where's your father?"

"Tripoli. At a CIA station there until further instructions."

"And your further instructions?"

He shrugged at her, but he really was clueless. "I don't know what to do. I thought we'd need him as insurance against Bracken - your deal with him - but he's more dangerous to us than the senator."

She slid her hand up and curled her fingers at his wrist, her thumb resting in the hollow of his palm. "We have to deal with both of them," she said slowly, a sigh slipping out of her. "Before we can be - free. Before we can... start a family."

He nodded, brought his head down to press a kiss to her knuckles. "I know," he breathed out over her skin, felt her rippling at his touch. "I know. I just don't know how."

She lifted her finger and stroked at his chin. "But you have an idea."

He closed his eyes against it, but he told her. "I hate this but - Black might - he might find a way to get rid of Bracken if he's back in the CIA."

She sighed. "I wanted to get Bracken through _justice_."

"I know. But I can't wait any longer, sweetheart. Can you?"

She shook her head mutely against the pillow and her arm came around his neck, drew him down to her.

"What did the doctor say about the tests?"

"No signs of radiation poisoning," he whispered. "And everything seems to be - he said it would take time. You underwent a trauma, Kate, and your body is still trying to get back to normal. It will be a while."

She nodded against his cheek, a heavy sigh tumbling out of her, and he slipped an arm around her shoulders and lifted them up, sitting at her side and drawing her into him.

"It'll be fine; you'll be fine. You were healthy and you will be again. And we'll figure out everything else. Just not right now."

"But later," she sighed; her voice seemed to waver like a station not tuned.

"Later," he promised. "We just need to get home first."

* * *

Kate woke from nightmares, her heart pounding so hard that it shook the bed. She groaned and twisted over in the bed, felt the sheets sticking to her sweat-slicked skin. Castle was gone, hopefully getting their flight set up and finding them luggage; she wanted so badly to change out of these sweat pants. She'd sent him out to find her jeans at least.

Still, her body was thrumming with a dream of darkness and wolf, and despite the fact that the sun poured in through the window and she could hear the kids at recess, she felt trapped.

Good time as any.

She slid out of bed slowly, dipping her toes to the floor as she adjusted her weight. She was still shaky, but she'd been on IV fluids for nearly a week now. She'd started eating apple sauce and ice cream and bananas a few days ago, so she should be able to do this. She wanted to.

She wanted out of this bed.

Kate put her feet flat and clutched the edge of the bed; the sheets in her fists were sweat-soaked, her skin clammy now. She got her legs under her and shivered, licked her lips as the room swayed. She gripped the bed harder and swayed on her feet, closed her eyes to keep from getting too dizzy to stand.

The darkness behind her eyes was all-encompassing and she felt the claws in the black, the teeth crunching down on her arm, and she gasped, eyes flying open.

Castle was standing in the doorway with bags in his hands. "Kate?"

"Bad dream," she explained, but it was no explanation. She shivered again and he dropped the bags and came to her.

"Why are you..."

She shook her head and still, she could feel teeth in her arm, latching on, holding on to her.

"Okay," he murmured. "All right. Bad dream. You're soaking wet."

"Sweaty," she said back, shivering again.

"Oh, yeah. I've got clothes for you. Jeans like you asked. You want - help?" He hovered at her side like he couldn't bear to see her like this.

"Um, help getting into new clothes. Yes." She shrugged off his fingers that tried to grip her elbows, felt too much like teeth. "Castle, let go. The clothes."

He backed off, turned around and grabbed the bags he'd dropped by the door. "Yeah, sorry, here. I got jeans. I said that. But, I also got you some shirts. Nicer stuff than your t-shirts."

"You got me nice clothes?"

She smiled at him, leaning back against the bed as he came over with the bags. He dumped them on the mattress and started pulling things out. A duffle bag, toiletries-

"Oh, Castle. You found my conditioner?" She grabbed for the bottle, popped open the top and sniffed it. "Heaven."

"I did," he grinned. "At the base exchange. Along with your shampoo, and that honeysuckle lotion that smells so good. I love that lotion."

She laughed and leaned in to kiss him, a brush of her lips over his jaw. "You still haven't shaved," she murmured, her skin burning where it had roughed over his.

"Sorry," he gruffed. His fingers curled up at the back of her arm and then to her neck, caressing and gentle. "You want me to sha-"

"No, no," she whispered. "Only when you want to. I kinda like it. Never seen you with a beard."

"Reason for that," he laughed softly. "Here's your jeans. Want to change?"

"Yeah." She slowly worked a hip up onto the bed, thought she'd drag the pants on one foot at a time. But Castle was already dropping to his knees and skimming his fingers over her calf, the jeans in his hands.

She watched him, her body already so tired out, but he was careful. His hands were warm and deft, swiftly pulling off her sweatpants and maneuvering the jeans up to her knees. She slid off the bed with his help, her hands on his shoulders to keep her balance, and he eased the jeans up her hips, still kneeling before her.

The jeans were too loose. Sagged even as he buttoned them. Badly. She'd need a smaller size.

"Jeez," he muttered, his forehead dipping to land at her belly. She brought a hand to his hair, tickled by the brush of his scruff, curled her fingers at his ear, stroking.

"It's okay," she murmured.

"No, it's not," he got out, breathing hard against her stomach. His arms wrapped around her waist and he didn't move.

"It's okay. I'll get better, it'll get better," she soothed, her fingers going around and around on his ear. Soft, warm. Such a good man. She didn't want him on his knees, broken before her. "Stand up, Rick." She tugged on his ear and he sucked in a breath, burying his nose into her and then standing.

"I'll get you a smaller size," he said then, his eyes averted. On the window. The kids outside still playing.

She knew what he was thinking, knew what he wanted. So badly. She did too. It would take time, just time. And they had that now.

Kate reached out for him and tightened her hand around his wrist, slid her fingers down into his. He jerked back to the present, to her, and gave her a soft smile. He was trying.

"Smaller size," he nodded. "Until then, I've got a pair of pajama pants-"

"No more sweats," she moaned.

He laughed. "No. No sweats, sweetheart. Just plaid pjs. Here." He pulled them out of the bag and held them up. "Want these instead?"

"Yeah," she smiled back, glad he was already getting over it. "You gonna help me get these off?"

"Yup," he said, his grin back now, wicked and clever even as his fingers slipped to the button of her too-big jeans. "I can help you with these."

She hummed and leaned into his touch, let him take her pants back off.

Soon.

She wanted to feel him - all over - wanted to curl up with him in their bed, their limbs tangled and the sun striped along the sheets as it came in through the wooden blinds. She wanted that, so badly, their home.

His mouth kissed her belly button, a touch of his tongue that made her gasp.

He undid the jeans and they dropped straight down to her feet.

He shook his head. "Never been so easy to get in your pants."

"Just wait, super spy." She slid her fingers into _his_ pants, gripped him by the belt loops. "I got plans for you."

* * *

Shopping on base was easy enough, but he hated the time away from her. Castle was struggling hard to keep from smothering her; he knew she'd been too out of it to notice lately, but soon she'd get cranky with him, soon it would be knocking his hand away or growling at him.

And he really didn't want it to get to that point. He was better than that; he could be better for her than that.

But damn it was hard to be on the other side of the base from her. It made his fingers twitch and he kept looking for her, half-turning to say something to her even though she wasn't there. He'd been without her for thirteen days, and before that it was the two of them separated by random missions through Eastern Europe as they'd set up that final push in Russia.

It'd been a clusterfuck from the beginning and Vadim's rampant stupidity should have been a warning.

But still, still, all of that should have gotten him used to her being away from him. There was no doubt she was competent and formidable, that she got things done and could take down a man twice her size. He didn't know where this anxious panic was coming from.

Castle snagged a pair of jeans two sizes smaller than the ones he'd picked up before, found some skinny jeans in that size as well. She looked hot in skinny jeans, looked model-sexy, and even though he didn't care at all what she wore so long as she came home with him, he thought maybe they'd make her feel good.

He closed his eyes at the memory of her too-sharp hipbones, the flare of her ribs under his palms.

Castle startled when someone bumped him; he turned and moved out of the way of a woman and her four kids, realized that the school had to be out now.

She'd be awake soon.

He moved towards the checkout line with the jeans, wondered if she'd looked at the rest of the clothes he'd bought. He'd found this citrine wrap shirt and a white cotton skirt, completely frivolous purchases but somehow he could see it on her, see her beautiful skin against the material, the way her eyes would burst green and gold, the unbearable lightness of being.

He kept it in his mind like a vision, a goal to work towards; he needed it to hold on to.

Because he couldn't hold on to her; he couldn't grab her and never let her go. So the skirt and top and the way her hair would whip in the wind off the lake, her sunglasses on her face and her lips smiling at him, fingers reaching out towards him in that _come here, Castle_ gesture that he loved.

The kids in line behind him were getting rowdy, antsy for snack or naptime or something, and Castle shifted forward, easing away from them.

He wanted to get back to Kate.

* * *

At least it was bright. At least the light was on and the sun was pouring in through the window and creating a brilliant patch at her feet. At least the smell was of disinfectant and vaseline.

Even if she'd woken up alone, everything else conspired to keep her sane.

She was fine; she was going to be fine. She just needed to get home. Her hands shook because she was still weak; she couldn't walk without swaying because she'd barely had any solid food. That was all it was.

Kate stretched her toes into the sunlight under the covers and pushed down into the warmth. She was tired, still too tired to be restless, but enough aware to want him here.

She curled her arm up into her chest and laid her head back down against the too-thin pillow, not quite able to close her eyes. If the dog were here, she'd curl up at Kate's back, keep her warm, the fur-

_No._

The sudden panic was like a scream in her head, an animal scream. Kate flopped onto her back, breathing hard, pressed her hand to her eyes but the darkness behind her lids was worse.

She swallowed and opened her eyes, stared up at the ceiling.

Oh, not good. Not good. Her own dog? Sasha.

Kate was going to have to get over this. Now. This was not acceptable. She couldn't-

"Hey, you're awake."

She turned her head and saw him in the doorway, more bags in his hands. He'd gone back for clothes for her, that was all, and he was here now. "Hey," she said back, trying on a smile.

"Bad dream?"

She shook her head. Not really. Just. "I'm okay."

"I got you some more jeans."

"Oh, good," she sighed, slowly drawing her knees up. "Help me?"

"Yeah, course," he said softly. He came to her and cupped the back of her neck, shifted her upright even as she put her feet over the side of the bed. "You feel clammy."

"Wasn't a nightmare," she sighed. "Just - I don't know, Castle. A flashback?"

His eyebrows drew together but he took it well enough. "Can you say?"

"Wolf," she muttered, rolling her eyes at herself.

He gripped her neck and came in closer, brushed a soft, so soft, kiss to her temple. She sighed and fisted his shirt, felt her breath come easier, her chest unknot as he touched her.

He moved to release her but she hooked her foot at the back of his knee. "Stay."

"Okay," he murmured, and she heard relief in his voice. His arm wrapped around her shoulders and tugged her into his chest. She tilted forward and rested against him, her cheek at the hard plane of his collarbone and her eyes drifting shut. He stroked his hand up and down her back, a kiss along her forehead, his chin tucked at the top of her head.

It was quiet here, and licked with sunlight, and she shifted her knees wider to bracket his hips, draw him just that much closer.

"Love you, sweetheart."

She smiled into his softness, flattened her palms out against his back, the tightness in her body easing out into just an embrace. Felt good to hold on to him, have him like a wall before her.

"Love you too," she murmured, tilting her chin up to press a kiss to his jaw. She uncurled her fingers against his neck and kissed him again, felt her lashes brushing his skin. He shivered and laughed a little, a huff of breath that made her smile.

"Hey," he grinned, nudged his nose against her. "What's that for?"

"Like you here."

"Yeah?" he said, sounding happy. Stupid happy, wriggling against her now, drawing closer.

"Yeah. Good hug."

"Oh, this is a lot more than a hug," he murmured, a dip of heat in his voice that made her laugh out and arch against him.

"Like that too," she said back.

"Ready for new clothes?"

"Mm, stay right here, Rick."

His hand dipped lower, stroked slowly, but he didn't try to move away from her. "Never leave you, never."

If only that were true.


	12. Chapter 12

**Close Encounters 10**

* * *

They sat opposite each other on the bed, Kate up at the head for its support and Castle at the foot. Her legs were in a vee on either side of his and they were playing a stupid card game to pass the time.

Castle had nothing more to do, nothing at all before they left tomorrow. Mitchell was taking care of the last minute details, had already put together their cover IDs for the flight from Athens to Rome. Being on a military transport meant they wouldn't have to be on their guard, but that passenger flight from Athens had him worried.

Mitchell would take care of them. He trusted the man.

Kate was in the skinny jeans; they fit a little bit better than the other pair he'd bought but there was still a lot of gap in the waistband. Too much. It had made his stomach churn when he'd helped her slide them on.

It was going to be a while before she was healthy enough to go back to the office, and he didn't even want to think about fieldwork. Thirteen days of malnutrition and dehydration and she'd lost so much muscle tone, so much of her usual and effortless strength.

She would have physical therapy and a trainer of course. He'd stick right by her side for as long as she wanted him, and longer, and she'd get it back. She would.

Kate was poking his thigh with her toes, growling at him, and he realized he'd disappeared on her, fallen back into his darker thoughts. She lifted an eyebrow and he gave her a self-deprecating smile, leaned forward to take the playing card she held out to him.

"Sorry, got distracted."

"And not by me," she said with her eyes narrowing. "Not allowed."

He laughed at that, glanced down at his own cards to find the match. Go Fish. A kid's game, but simple enough that when one or the both of them lapsed like that, wouldn't hurt too much.

"Well, darling, hate to tell you. But it was about you anyway."

"I don't like that kind of distraction," she said back. "That wasn't the sexy kind."

He gave her another smile, this one easier. "Yeah, I'll work on that."

"You do that, Castle," she murmured back. Her smile at him was soft, forgiving, full of knowledge. "Have any eights?"

He huffed and glanced down at his hand, gave her a shake of his head. "Nope. Go fish."

She curled her toes along the inside of his thigh, leaned forward to draw from the pile between them. He caught her foot and stroked his thumb along her arch, felt her flex against him.

"Your turn," she murmured and slowly dug her foot under his thigh. He lifted his eyebrow at her and she grinned back.

"What do you think you're doing there, Beckett?"

"Trying to get up to no good, baby, but you seem determined to keep it PG."

He laughed again, decided to give her a little of her own medicine. Castle dropped his cards in front of him and got up on his knees in her bed, planted his fists on either side of her hips, dropped his body slowly over hers. She grinned back, a caught-breath gasp as his pelvis found the cradle of her hips.

Her slow roll upwards into him made him grin and he ducked his head to press his lips to her pulse, tasting her.

"Oh, yeah," she hummed, her fingers weak at his sides, tickling and arousing, skimming to his back. "Castle."

He buried his face in her neck to catch his breath, felt himself at the ragged edge of his control just like that, just her breathy voice saying his name.

She pressed her fingers at his spine, tried to draw him down closer, but he couldn't get much closer without crushing her. So he lowered himself to his elbows and drew his arms under her, brought his palm to her neck to lift her into him.

She kissed his jaw, along his throat, licked his skin even though he could feel the frantic bird of her heart beating against her ribs.

He stroked his fingers along her side, all his weight on his other elbow, a knee, trying hard to keep from falling on her but she was making it almost impossible to stay away.

He found the hem of her shirt and tunneled his fingers up against her warm skin, the harsh rise of her bones knocking into his knuckles. And then the door clicked as it opened and he jerked back to drop to her side, smoothing down her shirt even as the nurse made a humph and moved into the room. Kate pressed her lips together and gave him a sly look, her fingers hooked in the waistband of his jeans and wriggling, killing him.

She was killing him.

The nurse came inside with the chart, a raised eyebrow of disapproval, but she didn't say anything as she checked Kate's vitals. Castle tried to twist off of her, scoot into the bed at her side, but she seemed determined to be wicked, her fingers curling at the top of his ass.

He grunted, narrowing his eyes at her, and he shifted again, dislodged her hand finally. She pouted at him, stuck out her tongue, and if that stupid nurse wasn't in here, he'd do something about that tongue.

Something as dirty as she seemed to want.

The nurse came around to the other side and checked the IV, the line, the drip. "How do you feel?"

Kate actually laughed, a burst of amusement that was more arousing than her fingers where they shouldn't be or that roll of her hips up into him. Just that laugh, and the look on her face as her eyes caught his.

"Um, I'm feeling pretty good."

The nurse made another disapproving noise, but she seemed a little less stern than when she'd first come in.

"All right. Any discomfort, pain?"

"No. I'm good."

"Still shaky?"

"Some," Kate hedged, another glance at him. She sighed and then unfurled her hand against the sheet. "Yes. Still shaky."

"We've got dinner planned for you, a pre-approved menu. Make your selections, okay?" The nurse handed over a printed sheet. "I'll come back and get the menu, send it down to the cafeteria. And you'll have your first real meal. Should help with the shakiness."

Castle gave the nurse a thankful nod and circled his fingers at Kate's elbow, his heart rate slowing down again with the reminder of her limited capabilities.

The nurse left and Kate gave a sigh. "This isn't exactly real food."

He glanced down at the menu and scanned the selections, had to laugh. "What? Mashed potatoes and jello not good enough for you?"

She elbowed him for that but tilted her head into his shoulder. "Got a pen? I need to decide what I'm having for dinner."

He glanced over at her and she was giving him a little secret smile; he grinned back and dropped a kiss to her forehead. "You eat your dinner and I'll sneak you something good."

She lifted her head, eagerness in her eyes. "Yeah? A brownie. Or a chocolate chip cookie. Or - oh, Castle - a roll. Can you get me some bread?"

He laughed but she looked so earnest. "Yeah. Do my best, love."

"Mmm. Can't wait."

* * *

Castle grinned when he glanced down and realized she'd fallen asleep. They'd returned the menu to the nurse, a little optimistic with her selections, and then she'd done her best to tease him, fingers playing, mouth wicked and clever.

Castle nuzzled her neck for another soft kiss and then eased away, sliding off the bed. He straightened his pants, a wry look in her direction, took a few deep breaths. Even skinny and weak and laughing at him, she had him tied in knots over her.

Jeez.

And while she was sleeping, he'd run down to the cafeteria and sneak her some desserts. Bread, she'd asked for. The look in her eyes and the way her mouth had moved... but was cafeteria food any good?

No way. He'd have to go out on the base and see if there was a bakery, someplace with pastries. She wasn't a huge fan of donuts, but bear claws. He knew she loved those. And coffee? He'd get decaf, keep the stimulants out of her bloodstream at this point.

Castle leaned over her and brushed another kiss to her forehead, skimmed his fingers through her hair. She gave a soft sigh and seemed to turn into him, but she stayed asleep.

He left the room and found the doctor right outside the nurses' station. "Dr Serkan."

The man shook his hand and smiled softly. "Ah, Mr Smith. I hear you leave us in the morning."

"Yes sir," Castle said. "You think she can do it?"

Dr Serkan tilted his head, as if seriously thinking about it, and then he nodded slowly. "Yes. I do believe she can. She's quite strong."

Castle nodded back, his throat closing up. "Yeah."

"Make sure she rests. Back to back flights?"

"Oh. Well, we have a layover," Castle hesitated. Not that he didn't trust her doctor, but he didn't want to let out too many details. "It's a few hours."

"Take as much time as you possibly can," Dr Serkan said quietly. "Make her sleep on the flight. I don't want to give her a sedative, but she should sleep."

"Yeah," he gruffed back, frowning. "I can - she sleeps a lot already."

"Very good. No unnecessary moves, limited engagements. Have you considered... ah, her mental state?"

He froze. What had she said to him? _Wolf._

"I see," Dr Serkan murmured. "The base therapist-"

"We have a therapist," he interrupted. "I should call him. I'll call him. Thank you, that's-" Castle bobbed his head, frowning down at his feet. He wasn't stupid; he knew what Beckett did when she was mentally cracking, when she was drowning - he'd _helped_ her in that, back when they first dug into her mother's case together.

Well, shit, they'd done some of that before she'd fallen asleep.

"You do that," Dr Serkan said softly. "You call him."

"I will. I'll - yes."

Dr Serkan clasped Castle's hand once more, a strong and reassuring squeeze. "You will do fine. You will both be fine."

He sucked in a deeper breath and nodded again. "Thank you."

"Go with love," Dr Serkan said softly, and then he turned and moved down the hallway, off on his rounds.

Castle stood rooted to the spot for a long moment, and then he roused, remembered what he was doing.

Bread.

* * *

It was the smell that woke her; the rich and overwhelming aroma of butter.

Kate's eyes slipped open and she knew she was grinning already; he was too. Castle leaned over her and kissed her hard, his teeth nipping her bottom lip, but she pushed at him.

"Not-uh. Where's my bread?"

He laughed. "Got it right here, love. Found a bakery on the other side of the base. Took a while - made them open back up for me."

"Oh, Castle," she breathed, struggling to sit up. "You got me a bearclaw?"

"Something like it," he hesitated, giving a little laugh. "Here."

She held out her hands and he dropped a heavy bag straight to her lap. She laughed and opened it up, the scent of baked goods overwhelming.

"Oh, yes," she murmured. "This is - there's no way I can eat all this."

"You won't. I'm eating at least half of it."

"Half?" she snorted. "No way. Hands off."

"You and what army?"

She sighed, staring up at him with the fantastic smelling desserts in her lap. "It _would_ take an army to stop you."

He gave her a little grin and winked. "How about this? I'll give you first pick, since you're the invalid."

She slapped his chest, felt the hard expanse of his muscle flexing at her touch. She grinned and slipped her fingers to the waistband of his jeans, curled up under his t-shirt and stroked.

"Shit," he grunted, eyes slamming shut.

She hummed and splayed her fingers out over his ribs, felt the way he swayed towards her. "What was that about being an invalid?"

"Beckett," he growled, snagging her hand. But instead of pulling her away, he stepped in closer, fingers tangled in hers, and gripped the back of her neck for a kiss.

She surged up into it as best she could, one hand on the bag of food he'd sneaked in for her, the other at his own neck, the tremble of her body giving her away.

Castle growled into her mouth and stopped, nudging his forehead against hers, breathing hard. "Can't do that to me."

"But it's so fun," she panted.

"Eat your dessert, you tease."

She grinned again, and even though she felt like she needed to sink back against the bed and just lie there, stupid and tired, she reached into the bag and pulled out the first thing she got her fingers on.

A buttered roll. She had mashed potatoes and some kind of creamed corn and peas coming for dinner but oh-

"Is it okay?"

She stared down at the light, heavenly bread, the rich aroma filling her up, and she finally looked at Castle, unable to get a single word out.

"Are you crying?" he yelped.

"No," she growled, dropping her head again and rubbing the back of her hand under her eye. His fingers gentled at her neck and before he could _really_ make her cry, the knock on the door interrupted them.

The nurse came in with her dinner tray, giving Castle a baleful look before he could snatch the bag away, hide it behind his back.

But Kate still had the roll in her hand and she curled it close to her chest. "You won't-"

"No solid foods," the woman tsked. But she didn't try to take it away; she merely left the dinner on the side table. "Don't let the night shift nurse see you."

Kate grinned in relief and Castle thanked her, shut the door after the tech as she left. He came back to Kate with a wince and shrugged. "Eat your dinner first, Kate. Then we'll work on dessert."

* * *

She wasn't full.

It was a surprise to actually feel hungry again, to still want to eat. She slathered mashed potatoes over a torn off piece of her roll and pushed it into her mouth even as he laughed at her.

"What are you doing?"

She wrinkled her nose at him because her mouth was full, chewed on the roll to get enough down so that she could stick out her tongue. He laughed harder and leaned back against the railing of the hospital bed, giving her some space.

Probably to avoid the elbow she was trying to cram into his ribs. She swallowed again and licked her bottom lip, and then she reached out for the water, fingers stretching. Castle rolled his eyes and plucked it from the side table, gave it to her.

She sipped slowly, exhausted with the effort of eating, and then leaned back as well, closing her eyes. She felt Castle take the water away from her again and she let it go, dropping her hand to her lap.

"How's it going?"

"I'm hungry," she murmured, letting her eyes flicker open.

He was grinning at her; he looked happy. "Yeah? Good."

"It's a lot of work."

He chuckled and brushed his fingers at her arm, curled around her elbow. "You do good work though. Look at that."

She glanced at the tray and saw that most of the mashed potatoes were gone, though the jello remained. The creamed corn had somehow tasted like absolute heaven and she'd sucked it down first, tearing pieces of roll to sop it up.

"I did do good," she murmured, grinning.

"Gold star."

"Don't be patronizing," she said, knocking her knee into his thigh.

"Oh, but sweetheart, you make it so easy."

Kate curled on her side and into him, gripping his shirt with her fist. He'd changed into a blue button up and those dark wash jeans that made him look crisp and beautiful. She loved him in these jeans. "Your eyes are so blue."

"Wow, you are drunk on mashed potatoes."

"Mm, just bread. Good bread."

"Want dessert?"

"Not yet," she sighed out. "Finish the mashed potatoes."

"Your eyes are closed, Kate."

"Gotta rest. Still hungry but I gotta rest."

She felt his fingers stroke the hair off her cheek, behind her ear, and then the caress of his palm to her jaw. He was warm in the bed with her, and her dinner was resting in her belly, full but not too full, the good kind where she could eat a little more and still be okay.

It was bliss. "Kiss me," she murmured, let her eyes open again.

His head tilted down towards her, their noses brushing. His hand was heavy at her jaw and neck and she watched him as he came in closer.

She was sleepy; dinner made her sleepy, but she wanted to taste him last.

Castle brushed his thumb over her bottom lip and touched his mouth to hers gently, a sigh of his breath. She let her lashes fall and kissed him back, a stroke of her tongue and the nip of his teeth, the soft and vulnerable claim.

Kate lifted her hand and curled her fingers around his wrist, held him to her.

"Wake me before my mashed potatoes get cold," she whispered.

"Of course," he murmured.


	13. Chapter 13

**Close Encounters 10**

* * *

Castle laughed and adjusted the screen of his phone so he could share it with her. "I swear. I love this show."

"You're messing with me. I've never seen you watch television."

"Well. Okay. So." He winced and tilted his head at the screen. "It's funny though. I didn't realize it would be so funny."

"Oh, jeez, Castle. No television at all?"

"Some." But. No, not really. "I like it. You said I needed to be educated. Educate me."

Kate laughed again and took the phone from him, paused the show. "This one's good, but there's one episode where they have this contest to see who gets the girls' apartment. They do this kind of jeopardy thing - or maybe more like the newlywed game - see who knows whom better. Let's watch that."

He let her dictate their tv viewing, watched her fingers on the screen as she went to season four. He was content to let her have it, content to do anything she wanted really. He was just trying to be normal, to make it normal for her as possible. They used to sack out in front of the tv in the living room on that ugly couch. Normal stuff.

Kate evidently found what she was looking for because she started the show and propped it up on the bedside table against her food tray. She'd eaten everything on it, except for the jello - he had no idea what she had against jello but it was a permanent and nasty hatred.

She'd even eaten a roll and nibbled at the bearclaw-like pastry. He'd eaten a turnover thing - it had some kind of fruit in it and she'd tasted it too - but she hadn't pushed the solid food experiment that far. He was glad, actually, because it meant she knew her limits and wasn't being stupid; it meant she was telling the truth when she said she was good.

She was good.

He settled in beside her, drawing an arm around her knees as they canted over his lap, her cheek against his shoulder. He brushed back the hair that had gotten in her mouth and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Tomorrow we go home," he said softly.

She smiled against his neck and nudged his jaw away from her. "Tomorrow. But it starts right now, Castle. We're right now. This can be home."

He tilted his head away and gave her a look. "I think maybe you're just food-drunk, sweetheart. This is not home."

She stuck out her tongue at him. "No. Well, a little. That roll, Castle. I'm gonna have wet dreams about bread; I can feel it."

"We'll add it to the list. The ice machine at Stone Farm, strawberry milkshakes, bread."

"Oh, sometimes there's you," she added, a little half-shrug like he was an afterthought.

"Oh, _sometimes_ I'm your wet dream?"

"Yeah. You know. When there's no bread. Or ice. Or milkshakes."

"Uh-huh." He laughed and shook his head at her, but she snuggled in against him and shifted so that more of her body pressed to his.

"But I meant it," she said suddenly, her fingers stroking at his collarbone. "You're my home. It's built on you. On us together. We have a house and a dog and plans for the future, but Castle, it's this."

He couldn't help the tight clench of his chest and the closing up of his throat. He loved her and he couldn't do this without her and he understood, he knew - she couldn't have made any other choice but the one she made.

He didn't like it but he could hardly hold it against her - he'd have done the same.

"Kate," he sighed. "Love. I'm sorry."

"What?" She brought her startled glance to him, as if rousing from a dream, and he realized she'd been half asleep. "Sorry for what?"

He didn't know how to say it, how to make sense of the complicated knot of what he felt for her. "Sorry for - for this. For. Taking it out on you."

"No. No, Rick. You didn't-"

"It kills me; it kills me that you were - I can't even - Shit. It kills me. But I - I'd have done it too. And it's not fair to pretend that it's unequal. It's not like I love you more; it's not like this would work without one of us."

She clutched his shirt again, smoothed her hand out once more. He could feel her heart beating too hard against her ribs and his as well. Castle pressed his hand over hers and tried to settle her with just his touch.

"It doesn't work without you," she said then. "It works because it's both of us. Together."

"So together we go home," he said in return. "Together we go home."

She laid her head against his shoulder again and her fingers stroked at his shirt underneath his hand, over and over, as if soothing him. The show was still playing on his phone and he realized it was funny, it was distracting, and it was enough of home for now.

She'd fall asleep and he'd watch over her, and then tomorrow they'd go home.

* * *

He was still asleep - even after the night nurse's visit. Kate stroked a light finger over his eyebrows and watched his nose twitch, but he stayed asleep. She leaned in and kissed so very softly the skin at his jaw, the round satin of his bottom lip, the flare of his nose. He was a beautiful man, with a strong and deep heart, capable of such extremes.

She wanted to touch him, wanted to have him, _wanted_. She was tired of waiting, tired of _tired_. Time to get things back to normal, one step at a time.

Kate smoothed her thumb over his eyebrow again and he stirred; she cupped the side of his face as they laid together on one pillow.

"Shower?" she murmured, nudging his hip with her knee.

Castle startled awake, dislodging her hand, and blinked at her, rubbed his eyes like a little boy.

"You were going to help me shower," she whispered, smiling at him.

"Oh. Yeah. Did I fall asleep?"

"No wonder you don't watch much tv. Puts you right out," she said quietly, letting him wake. She curled her hand over his bicep, loved the flex of muscle even as he yawned and pushed up onto his elbows, finally sat up.

"Shower. Yeah. Let's do that."

"Before it gets too late."

He nodded and climbed out of her hospital bed then offered a hand back to her, helped her down as well. She slid to the floor and felt the first flutter of instability, but Castle had her and she'd be okay.

"When the night nurse came in and took my vitals, I told her you were going to help me shower," she offered. "She seemed relieved she wouldn't have to do it herself."

Castle chuckled, pulling a face. "I don't think she likes us."

"Not at all," she agreed quickly. "But she likes Mitchell. Did you see the way she got all curious when you mentioned he'd be coming by?"

He laughed, ushering her slowly towards the ensuite bathroom. "No. Really? That's just too perfect. Have to give her Mitch's number."

"Oh no," Kate laughed. "He doesn't deserve that."

Castle shrugged a little and she slipped her arm around his waist feigning that she needed his support; he pulled her closer, his palm hot at her hip. More like it. Kate smiled and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, slipped her fingers under the untucked tails of his shirt.

His skin rippled when she touched him.

"What are you doing, Kate?" He opened the bathroom door and drew her inside, flipped on the light.

"I'm well-rested now," she murmured, lifting her eyebrows. "And I ate all my dinner."

"Good girl." He gave her a wicked grin back. "What about dessert?"

"This _is_ dessert," she hummed

He grunted and she grinned, glad she'd already driven him to animal noises and they'd only made it into the bathroom. She felt good, and it was all because of him, and she wanted to touch him.

"Kate, Kate, I don't think-"

"Oh, thinking isn't the point," she whispered, reaching for his pants.

* * *

She didn't try to stand; they just sat on the tile floor of the shower, Kate in the vee of his legs. He massaged the shampoo into her scalp, held the weight of her head in his hands, her body falling back into his.

"Love your hands," she sighed.

The shower was the most privacy they'd had since they'd gotten to the hospital in Turkey, and next it would be hours on a military cargo flight to Athens, and then cramped into economy class to Rome. He wanted this time to have her, have her close, be with her like this. Touching her.

Castle grabbed the plastic cup he'd stolen from her dinner tray and filled it from the shower spray, then he laid her head back against his chest and sealed his hand over her forehead, poured the water down over her hair. It ran the suds free, slipping down his torso and to the drain.

And that was the last of it. He'd washed himself first to get it out of the way, and now he dropped his hand from her forehead and curled his arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer.

She nuzzled into him, a sigh from her lips. "Last time we'll get to be alone before..."

"The hotel in Athens," he murmured.

"Oh, fun," she hummed, eyes flickering open.

He laughed and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Ready to get out, dry off?"

"Guess so," she sighed again. But she unfolded from his embrace and rose before him, water shimmering and streaking down her body, her eyes dark on him. She looked stronger, even if he could see her ribs and the hard juts of her joints. She looked ready.

Castle stood as well, pushed off the water faucet with his foot. She grinned and shivered, a hand coming to his wrist to tickle in the cupped well of his palm. He laughed at her and she shrugged.

"Need a towel. I'm cold."

"Hold your horses. I'm getting there," he muttered, stepping out of the short tub and to the even colder tile floor. He snagged the over-starched hospital towel and turned back to her, wrapped it around her body. She shivered again and he rubbed her arms with it, embracing her and lifting her up and over the tub.

She laughed a little and wetly kissed his neck, her hair soaked and dripping against him. "You need a towel too."

"You need clothes," he countered. "I brought them in here with me. What'd I do with them?"

"Right there, tucked into the handicap bar."

Castle turned and found her sweatpants, the tshirt, and a pair of clean underwear. When he turned back, she was using the towel to press the ends of her hair dry, goose bumps across her bare skin. He leaned in and couldn't help kissing her cheek, cupping the side of her face before he handed over her clothes.

"Save the underwear," she said.

He lifted an eyebrow. "Save them?"

"For tomorrow. Just sleeping. Don't need underwear to sleep."

"No shenanigans from you," he warned.

She laughed. "No, no. Couldn't possibly. Help me?"

He grinned back and bent down to help her with the sweatpants, black, loose, too loose really, and when he looked up, she had shrugged on the tshirt by herself.

Her fingers came down to his bare shoulders, played at the nape of his neck, stroked through his hair. He swayed forward into her, wrapped his arms around her waist, nose pressed into the warmth of her belly.

Her fingers made designs against his scalp, combing through his wet hair, and he closed his eyes for a moment just to feel her. Just for a second more, just the two of them.

And then he stood and dislodged her hands, and he guided her out of the bathroom and back to bed.

* * *

Kate Beckett woke paranoid.

But it really was her own name she heard and then whispering and she tried not to jerk, tried not to let on she was awake, but a hand came down to her shoulder and gripped in awareness and she stiffened.

And then remembered.

Castle. It was Castle.

"She's right here," he said.

She opened her eyes and he was on the phone, his face furrowed with concern over her. His hand at her shoulder drifted up to her neck and stroked down, releasing some knot of tension she hadn't realized she had.

She must have been in the middle of another dream.

"Yes, sir. I think so," Castle answered. His thumb pressed behind her ear even as his fingers snared in her tangled hair.

Kate shivered and drew her arms up, curled tighter against his thigh where he sat beside her on the bed. Sometime during the night, she'd woken and he'd been gone, no longer in her bed, but she'd been so exhausted she'd fallen back asleep without him even though the darkness had been oppressive.

Castle's rumble of words didn't make any sense to her, and she stayed where she was, her nose against his clean dress pants, smelling laundry and hospital and something dark.

Something like freedom, the wide world beyond this place.

It had given her nightmares.

"Thanks, Dr King. I'll be on the lookout."

Kate lifted her head from his thigh and blinked at him. Castle ended the call and slid his phone into the breast pocket of his dress shirt; he looked sharp this morning. Freshly shaved and eyes so blue. He had kind eyes, despite everything he'd been through, done, fought for.

"You called Dr King?" she asked. It was an effort to prop herself up on her elbows like this; she ignored the weariness already plaguing her limbs and studied him.

"Yes," he answered. He looked grave, like he didn't know what to expect from her.

"That was a good idea," she sighed out, dropping her forehead to his thigh again. "Very smart, super spy."

He grunted and seemed to be leaning over her; she could feel his body warm against her head and shoulders and then his mouth brushed her cheek.

"Wanted to know what we're in for," he said softly.

"He say?"

"Yeah."

"And?" she growled, lifting her head up against the pressure of his embrace. He was watching her, but he let her crawl up to sit beside him.

"And he thinks you'll experience - well, something kinda like culture shock. Noise, people, civilization again."

She frowned into her hands. "I don't think - I mean. Castle." She shook her head. "I'm not like some feral child found living with wolves."

A flash of teeth snapped behind her eyes, and she flinched. Hard.

"Kate? Kate. Kate, sweetheart. Kate."

She opened her eyes to him and realized he was gripping her shoulders. She blinked.

"Kate? What was that?"

She shivered and ignored his question. "I think so long as I'm _in_ civilization, Castle, I'm gonna be fine."

He didn't look convinced.

But she knew - as far away from caves and rocks and things that hunted in the night - that was where she needed to be.

* * *

Castle smiled when she came out of the bathroom.

Kate had been in there long enough, but she'd been insistent on doing it herself, doing it alone, and so he'd waited in the hospital room for her, trying to keep from going in there after her. Helping.

She looked soft. Despite the cheekbones that could cut him, the splay of her wrist bones under her skin - despite the signs of her thirteen days without food, holed up in a cave, she looked beautiful.

"Hey, honey," he murmured, holding a hand out to her.

"Honey?" she said back, taking a slow step towards him and coming into his arms. "We do that now?"

"We do," he confirmed. He gave her another smile and stroked his thumb over those cheekbones, felt her small smile back.

"I don't like honey."

"Oh? You don't get much say in it," he said.

She laughed and lifted her eyes to him. She was wearing the black pants, the dress pants he'd bought for her because they'd be on a military flight out. And the deep blue shirt.

"I love blue," he murmured. "You look beautiful, Kate."

She nudged his jaw with her mouth and kissed him softly. "Okay. All right. Fine. Call me honey if you have to."

"Love you," he said instead. "No matter what I call you."

* * *

It was less than nothing; it was easy.

She felt good sitting beside him in the jeep as it wound through the base. They were headed for the landing strip and the Quonset hut housing the military planes. A cargo flight. She'd done that before and at least this time she wasn't recovering from a bullet wound.

She could do this.

Castle gripped the rollbar as they pulled up to the plane already fueled and waiting for them. He jumped out in a display of agility that made her jealous, but he turned back for her and held out a hand.

"Ready?"

"So ready," she said, only a moment's hesitation before she let him help her out.

Castle released her, and even though she swayed for a moment, standing upright on her own in the rich morning light, he didn't try to grab her. She was grateful for it. Either because he knew her well enough to know she needed to do this alone, or because Dr King had told him to back off. She was betting on Dr King, but she'd give him credit for following through on it.

Culture shock. Right.

She was so ready to be out of here, to be home. She wanted her gun, damn it.

Her fingers clenched around air and Castle gave her a look. "You coming or what?"

She started forward, her mind jerking back to the present, to the cool air on her cheeks and the lick of sunlight, to the pavement under her feet and the man waiting on her.

"I'm coming," she said.

She wasn't smiling, but she could feel it close, coming close. Hovering.

She was getting on that plane and getting out of here.

* * *

As he'd expected, she fell asleep strapped into the webbing of the cargo plane. Within minutes, actually.

She had to be exhausted. Because of regulations, they had to be in military dress uniform. He'd shaved and cut his hair, was in the Air Force blues but without the stripes and insignia. Kate was in the black dress pants, deep blue shirt that looked similar but wouldn't pass a close inspection. It was enough to get them on board - that and the CIA's initial string-pulling.

The flight was long and the pilot didn't try to communicate, despite Castle wearing the headset. He could hear the chatter of the tower and the pilot getting weather conditions, but for the most part, it was a silent flight.

He watched Kate sleep, resisted the urge to touch her; he didn't want to jostle her out of unconsciousness if he could help it. She needed the rest and she needed to not be startled by every jerk and shake of the plane as it hit turbulence.

He had a CIA-issue phone, clean clothes, a ride back. He had his wife beside him and a clear destination away from the mess they'd left behind.

But a part of him felt like it wasn't really over.

When they landed and she still hadn't woken up, that sharp thorn of doubt pressed deeper. Castle unstrapped himself from the harness first, let his feet get used to the feel of the metal deck and solid ground once more.

The pilot had pulled them to a Quonset hut that looked similar to the one they'd left hours ago. But as the Air Force man opened the back cargo doors and the warm air came in, Castle turned back to Kate and began to unstrap her from the netting.

When he cupped her by the back of the neck to keep her upright, she gasped and flailed out, striking his torso, a knee in his thigh.

"Kate," he said urgently, crowding closer. He didn't want the pilot to see, to know. He didn't know why, just that it seemed important to keep it private. "Kate, sweetheart. We're here."

She struggled against the webbing and he stopped trying to resist her, helped her instead. She was soon free and tumbling out, into his arms, and he dragged her into an embrace, his mouth at her temple.

"I got you," he murmured. "I got you, Kate."

She drew back, blinking at him, and then shook her head, stepped away. "I'm okay. Weird dream."

He nodded and let her believe it, moved her towards the side door and its steep steps down. She glanced around, her first look at the base in Athens. He kept a firm grip on her arm as he followed her down, tried to help her keep her balance on the steps.

At the bottom she crossed her arms over her chest. "Where do we go from here?"

"Base personnel are gonna look the other way while we sneak off," he said with a tight smile. "And then we get a taxi for the Athens airport."

"Just like that?" she said, casting a furtive look over her shoulder.

He didn't like the narrow set to her mouth or the hunch in her back, but he didn't remark on it. Dr King had warned him, and he'd tried to pass it along to her - how it would be.

But he didn't think she had believed it.

"Just like that."

She drew apart from him but she kept darting looks towards the horizon, as if she expected trouble to come looking for them.

He didn't blame her. After everything.

"Kate."

She turned to him, brow furrowed, so he reached out and smoothed his thumb over those lines, tried to erase it.

But it couldn't be erased.


	14. Chapter 14

**Close Encounters 10**

* * *

She clutched the armrests of the wheelchair with all her might and closed her eyes.

_His favorite color is blue. Favorite color's blue. Favorite's blue, favorite blue, blue, blue._

She didn't know why that scrap, why only that one small piece, but it was what she clung to. Her heart pounded like a beast thrashing in sludge, weak and ineffectual, and she didn't think she could get enough air.

Athens. Airport.

People. Just. All the people, so many people, and every noise: the ice machine's grinding and squeal of wheels on linoleum and mother rebuking her child and headphones blaring and public address system's static and click of keyboard and whine of engines-

"Kate! Breathe."

She startled and opened her eyes to his. Blue. Blue, blue, blue eyes.

"Kate?"

She shook her head, hands gripping the wheelchair harder. "Just. Just get me through it."

His eyebrows knit, but he'd been right. He'd warned her. _It might be a shock._

Might?

Shit, she was having a panic attack.

"Castle. Push faster," she growled out, pressing one hand into her eye socket and trying not to fall apart.

She jerked when he took the handlebars again and then she saw the floor flying under her, so fast it blurred into white, and the noises clamored for her but fell away, fell back; they couldn't catch him, couldn't possibly catch up with Castle.

Thank God.

* * *

It wasn't any better.

She seemed worse now than when they first got out of the taxi and she put a trembling foot to the pavement. He'd gotten her a wheelchair at check-in because of that washed-out look on her face, but now that he'd rammed his way through the airport and they'd been given priority seating, she was curled in a small space against the window, shivering.

Well, it was cold in here.

Castle reached up and closed the air vent even though the flight attendant had come over the PA twice to tell them to please open their air vents all the way since they might be sitting on the tarmac for a while.

Kate turned her face to him and he reached for her, but she shook her head.

"No," she croaked out. "Don't touch me. Can't."

He stopped, hands falling back to his lap, throat closing up. She pressed her arms around her drawn up knees and buried her face against her thighs, rocking.

Panic attack. Dr King had warned him. The people, the closeness, the loudness of civilization would be hard to handle after her experience in Russia. Dr King had been surprised she'd never had PTSD symptoms before - though what had happened to her when he'd faked his own death might have been it - and so Castle had expected them to come rolling in any moment.

"Kate," he said quietly, pushing her name out past the frustration in his throat. "Kate, just focus on my voice, okay?"

A flight attendant passed by and Kate flinched.

"Kate. It's okay. It's a panic attack. You'll get through it. We'll get through it. I'll sit here with you until it fades."

"I can't - breathe."

"You can," he assured her. "You are. Dr King said it would be good to walk around, but we're kind of limited at the moment. So you're stuck listening to me."

She gave a strangled noise that sounded like a laugh and then one of her arms came free and reached for him; her hand wrapped so tightly around his bicep that he knew he was going to be bruised.

"I got you, Kate. Nothing else can get you if I have you."

She was nodding rapidly into her drawn up knees, but her face was still away from him, her body shivering, trembling; he could her her gasping.

"I want you to listen to my voice, Kate, and focus on breathing. Just breathe, okay? Dr King said when we panic, we take short breaths or we hold our breath and it makes our heart race. And when our heart races, we feel even more panicky. So breathe. Just breathe."

He could actually feel her take in a long breath, a gasping one but a deep one nonetheless, and her fingers around his shirt dug in.

He tilted his head and kissed the inside of her wrist. "I want to tell you a story. Listen to the story and try to let the rest of it go, try to put yourself in the story."

"Yes," she ground out, and as he watched her, she turned her cheek to her knees and stared back at him with dark, deep eyes.

She was so afraid.

It killed him. "I had a dream about our son."

Her eyes closed, her body - for one second - slumped. And then her eyes opened on his, brimming and needy and seeking, and he gave it to her, all of it, all the words he had.

"I was holding him in my arms," he whispered. "Right against my chest. And you were asleep beside me but he didn't want to sleep. He wanted to play. His little fist kept opening and closing, Kate, opening and closing against my shirt. I talked to him and that little fist curled and uncurled with every word."

She turned her head and pressed her eyes back into her thighs, but he thought her breathing was a little more steady.

"It was a peaceful dream," he went on, slowly moving his hand to the fingers she held clamped around his arm. "It was a good dream. We were in our house, in our own bed, and everything was right. It felt like it was only - only a day away. It could be our tomorrow, Kate, if we let it."

He drew her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingertips, one by one, softly, no pressure.

"I love you," he said finally. "I love you and what you did for me out there. Even though it hurts, I love you for it. Because no one has ever wanted me so much, Kate. So much that they'd do something like this for me. And whatever you're feeling right now, whatever it is that's got hold of you, it can't keep you. Because I have you. You're mine. You've already given yourself to me."

She turned her head again, her face to him once more, and he saw the tears that had already spilled out, but her panic was gone, broken.

She canted into him and he caught her, his mouth pressed to her forehead, his arms wrapping around her even with the armrest digging into his side and bruising. He'd suffer a thousand more to keep her close.

"Thank you," she whispered and her voice was cracked but it wasn't broken.

* * *

Direct flight to Rome. Two hours and five minutes, she reminded herself.

Direct flight. Direct flight.

She could do it.

She needed to sleep, but there was no way in hell she could relax enough to drift off. She might pass out, sure, but falling asleep when her heart was so thick in her throat she could barely breathe? Not happening.

She knew it was irrational; she knew the people on this flight couldn't hurt her. Not with Castle at the aisle, keeping watch. And she knew the fear that raced through her blood was over wolves and Russians and darkness and things that were about as far from this place as could be.

Didn't help.

She wanted to crawl out of her own skin.

She'd been traveling for only an estimated four hours today, but already she wanted to stop. Stop. Hide. She hated feeling like that, but she didn't know if she could keep going like this. She needed sleep; she needed nothingness. She needed to not be so damn afraid.

"How's it going?" Castle said quietly. She glanced over at him and he looked about as miserable as she felt.

"Sorry," she sighed. She should be better-

"Don't be sorry," he growled, something dark on his face. "Don't ever be sorry."

She nodded, fists tightening in the loose legs of her pants, a breath stretching her lungs.

Castle's hand came over hers, grabbed her fist and touched it to his lips, a kiss that he sealed by pressing it against his chest. She remembered his dream and released her fingers, let them unfurl against the starch of his dress shirt, scratching softly.

"Tell me another story," she said, tilting into him so that she could lay her head against his shoulder. "Tell me something else about him."

"I don't know," he rasped. "I just know how he feels against me. How it feels to hold him and have you smile at us. I don't know. You tell me, Kate. Tell me what you see when you close your eyes."

She couldn't close her eyes; she couldn't.

"James," she started softly.

"Yeah."

But her eyes were open. Had to be open, had to. And so she had nothing more.

* * *

It was only two hours, but Castle spent them watching her grip the edge of sanity with white knuckles.

It had him nearly as exhausted as she looked.

When the plane landed at Leonardo da Vinci Airport in Rome, they were both breathing hard and gripping each other's hands like a lifeline. She flinched when the wheels hit hard, flinched again when the engines screamed in resistance. The flaps were up and the drag pushed them into their seats, and Kate let out a little choked noised that made his guts twist.

"I'm okay," she said. "I'm okay. I'm okay."

It sounded like a prayer. He didn't deny it; he just laced his fingers with hers as if holding her hand was for love rather than fear.

"Want to get off first or sit here and let everyone else go ahead of us?" he asked.

"Everyone else," she answered quickly.

He watched as she roughly jerked the seatbelt off, the clatter of the buckle too loud, all while the plane was still taxying to the runway. The flight attendants were at the front, the plane was rolling, but Kate was trying hard not to squirm.

He could tell. He felt her anxiety like an itch too deep to scratch. Castle reached over the seat and stroked his fingers down her thigh to her knee, squeezing.

"Thank you," she rasped, turning her head. Her eyes were too dark. She wasn't drowning, but she was barely keeping her head above water.

"Don't thank me," he sighed. "I need you."

Kate gave a garbled laugh, the corner of her mouth twisting up almost like a smile. "In your best interests to keep me from going crazy, huh?"

He let out a breath that tasted like relief. "You're not crazy, Kate. Skinny. A little ragged. But not crazy."

She slapped her free hand against his chest and then curled her fingers in the placket of his shirt, tugging at his buttons. "Skinny and ragged? So attractive."

"But not crazy," he added, giving her a little smile. "That's in your favor."

"Oh yeah? What else I got in my favor?"

"You took a shower last night. So you smell good."

She finally laughed, a cracked-sounding thing, but there nonetheless. The plane had stopped before the gate and she startled at the sound of the door opening, but people were unbuckling their seatbelts and shifting to reach their luggage.

"I smell good," she repeated flatly. "That's great."

"And you're not crazy," he said helpfully. "And I'm gonna help you fatten up; I promise. Butter in your pasta, lots of alfredo sauce - oh, that restaurant you love near our place, what's it called?"

"Vespucci's," she said instantly.

He grinned.

"But you knew that."

"Yeah," he admitted. "Just wanted to see if you did."

"I love that place," she sighed. Her body seemed to have let go of its tension just a little more, her fingers splaying out over her thighs. "I could go for some veal parmesana right about now. Or eggplant parmesana. Either one sounds heavenly. If I can keep it down."

"I bet you could." He studied her for a moment, the vibration of anxiety that still threaded through her like aftershocks. What replaced it was a brittle exhaustion that he hadn't seen since Russia. "We should stay overnight in Rome."

"What?"

"Get you some eggplant parmesana. Stay in our place. Have a good night's sleep."

"In our place," she hummed back, shifting her eyes to him. "Oh. That-" She pressed her hand to her mouth and then scraped her fingers through her hair as if trying to shake off the emotion. "What about our flight to London?"

"Not booked yet. I wanted to keep from leaving a trail. We can stay as long as you like."

"I want to stay," she whispered. "I need to stay. Just for a little while."

A little while sounded like more than one night. Suddenly he realized that the fear on her face wasn't entirely about the plane or the noises or the people; it was about home.

She was afraid.

Of what happened next or just - just life again?

"Kate," he rasped.

She shook her head and pressed both hands to her forehead.

He shut up. And then-

"Our place," he agreed. "I'll take you."

* * *

The effort of holding herself together was too great.

She couldn't keep it up. "Castle."

He was hailing a cab outside the airport; the noise and the people and the pressure and the sunlight - the everything - battered against her walls like detonations, each hit shaking her very foundation.

"Castle."

He was holding open the door; he made a gesture to the driver and came back for her. She'd eschewed the wheelchair but maybe that had been a bad idea. When she'd been in the chair, people had avoided her, had gone out of their way to lower their voices and shuffle to one side and make way for her.

Not now. Now all hell had broken lose and she was going to drown. She was going to lose her very being in the maelstrom of _noise._

"Kate."

She jerked her gaze to his and found that startling, beautiful blue.

"Kate. I got you." He didn't try to touch her, didn't grab her, just nodded her towards the waiting cab.

She slunk inside and curled her knees up on the seat, waited for him to put their things in the trunk. The driver stared back at her and then said something in rapid-fire Italian that she couldn't begin to understand, and then Castle was there, handling everything, giving the man their Roman address.

She felt the car jerk forward into the traffic outside the airport, and then Castle's shoulder pressed against hers, a warm weight that seemed to anchor her.

"It won't be long," he murmured.

"I'm okay," she answered.

"You need anything from me?"

She shook her head and slowly lowered her feet back to the floor, pressed her palms to the tops of her thighs. He sat at her side and she felt the caress of the back of his hand at her leg, steady, unhurried. He seemed to be saying, _take all the time you need._

So Kate kept her eyes closed on the whole drive, concentrated on breathing, and soon the anxiety was rippling out of her, sloughing off.

The cab stopped suddenly and Kate opened her eyes, surprised they were already there. Castle paid the driver and opened the door onto the curb; he turned and offered his hand which she could take and allow him to help her out.

She stood on the sidewalk and glanced up at the little walk-up they shared together in between assignments. It was the same as she'd remembered; the beautiful terra cotta roof and the little porch off the side, the plants and the sun and the old world charm.

She started forward even as Castle was getting the bag out of the trunk, let her feet take her up the steps towards the front door. The key was under the massive pot of red geraniums, but she wriggled it back and forth, her arms and fingers straining until she'd managed it.

Castle came up at her back just when she'd gotten it loose, and he helped her rise once more. Her hands were shaking, her thighs trembling with exertion, and she leaned against the door frame as she pushed the key into the lock.

She turned it and the door seemed to fall open at her touch, swinging wide into the sun-licked foyer. Kate took a deep breath of the light-rich air and reached her hand back for Castle. He wrapped his fingers around hers, loose and comfortable, and she stepped over the threshold with him.

The jumbled kaleidoscope of her senses clicked into place, sure and hard and sun-streaked.

She was a wreck, and she needed help.

"Kate?"

In the foyer, the cool tiles under her shoes and the broad wooden beams over her head, Kate finally turned back to him. She shook loose his grip and brought her hands up to cup his cheeks, felt the tears choking in the back of her throat.

"Castle," she whispered.

"What's wrong? We can go. We don't have to stay-"

"I need your phone. I need to call Dr King. I can't go on like this."

His face fell, but she saw only concern and compassion not disappointment. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pressed a kiss to her palm; he was already drawing the cell phone out of his pocket.

"Here. He's the last person I dialed. All you have to do is hit call."

* * *

Castle made himself scarce while she talked to Dr King. She'd holed up in the bathroom off the hall, but she hadn't shut the door on him; still he made sure not to listen in. He unpacked their clothes in the wide dresser drawers, but he didn't like how little they had. He moved out of the bedroom and passed the bathroom as he went.

She had her forehead pressed to her knees as she sat on the closed lid of the toilet. He paused, waiting, but she was nodding now like she was listening, raking a hand through her hair and sitting up again. Before she could see him, he moved on, heading for the living room.

He stood with his hands loose at his sides and tried not to listen - he really tried - but he could still hear her soft murmurs and then the more anguished _why_ that he didn't know how to answer himself.

So he opened the sliding glass door to the walled-in balcony and stepped out. The warm Italian air brushed across his cheeks and he closed his eyes, felt the sun dappling his skin. Out here he couldn't accidentally overhear her, but with the door still open, she knew he was available if she needed him.

Castle sank down onto the stone wall that enclosed the porch, his head tilted towards the cobbled street below, and he let the day - the week - the last month of being run ragged and nonstop and half that time without her - he let it all sink, let it leach out of his very skin and into the stones.

It came to him then, with his eyes closed, that this was the place. He'd seen her here when he'd nearly lost his leg, feverish and messed up; she'd reached out her hand to him and smiled, her hair tawny in the sun, and she'd brought him close.

It wasn't a real memory. It was a spliced together wish, a dream of his deepest need, to have her here in the one place that had always meant rest and recuperation. It was portions of their time layered over one another until the collage of Kate was beckoning and beautiful.

But it could be a real memory; they could make it here, together.

Maybe it wasn't time to go home just yet. Maybe they both needed this more - a safe place, a neutral space, a chance to banish the black.

They'd stay in Rome as long as they needed.

* * *

**the end**

**A/N: **Spy Castle will take a small hiatus. **Close Encounters 11: For Your Eyes Only** will begin in a few weeks' time.


End file.
